WITH LITTLE BEINGS Poem by Ulrike Draesner

lustous (she doesn't ponounce r)

it must be big the wanding eyes: my light buns on it
hums it nods sceams looks thinks it is the little staa mixes
and finds neitha it no us the easons aa a mud
on the wellie side leaf stuck its vein thea the tee "the magpie
is flying" black-and-white the "moon is too" whea is the fo-est?
the invisible cat eally sits on its wist out thea whea
it went till it not beaking the jaa all-edy and does the
bown eye know its chee-eeness when like hiding
what it ………… (is)


paprika mamrika

she's been saying r for three days and
what is it "paprika" after nursery
"mamrika" she said we raughed ran
raced: to buy a bike-ber as her prize
instead of a pink riry fairy she picked a brue
one with a mouse then we sat in a café
she had cheesecake we prayed "big girs"
in other words we conversed under
swaying prane trees for wasn't her theatle
lole the led dlagon whose eyes wele no
longer gleen . . . and tord me of fire
and srithering, how wonderfur
rife was in this fawr


wolfy

a gray child long-haired dark her brown face smeared white
small, delicate in loose clothing a gray fleece gray trousers
sturdy shoes a wolf-child, broad-shouldered in her way
coming down the few steps from the bus little thing still
after three day's kindergarten trip smelling of sheep donkey earth
as if dumb-detached with her wild questing gaze
for seconds seconds a stranger she came towards me
down those steps of the bus just a few steps were a
world, after three days so strange. we needed to
find out where we were we first to move towards
each other those gluing or cementing ideas
that were visible as arms and hands between us
when i, carrying her in my arms, touched her more
she said "ow" as if i'd grown a beard
as if my wolfish beard had brushed her
my wolfish gaze.

i'd been waiting so long
i prowled