Wednesday, August 14, 2013


A city under perpetual construction
that I once related to, erroneously, I am sure,
through my family's memory of partition,
during a rainy summer
forty-nine weeks ago.

I sit with the smokers outside the station,
a black chiffon skirt flutters in the breeze.
I can see the TV tower - shining in the sun-
that stood across the plaza from our hotel.
I know it still. He does not.

Spanish music blares from the cafe--
we shared an intimate early tapas dinner in Alexanderplatz.
I was so proud of him that night.

Tri-colored flags ripple in the wind,
the feathers of my earrings dance in my shadow.
They will not go far, they whisper.

This year has passed with me in stasis,
while he has grown and stretched and carried on.

It is time for me to catch my train.
We are no closer to reunification.

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