POPPIES Poem by Norbert Hummelt

that was fulda just now. the weak glow of the ceiling lights
in the open carriage is constantly reflected in the window
before my eyes. you write that where you are it is cloudy and

cool the beating of my heart disturbs me the downcast feeling
settled in on me already on the outward journey beyond the
window meadows forest clouds whatever I see it does me

no good the old tribulation in my blood. the day before yes-
terday there was green billowing and the wind in the yard how
the tree was moving I could hear the warning cries of the

magpie flying after me from another life there was a tree in the
yard but one morning light and a voice speaking from far away:
kassel is behind us now. still a good two and a half hours to go

I am uneasy and older than you and am hurtling inertly
towards göttingen and can see the sides of the cuttings red
with poppies and can pledge my unstoppably passing time

to none of the passing images. that, and the unendurable
wait until you kiss me again after our fight will be sure
to make me fall apart long before I reach hildesheim.