Margin: Exploring Modern Magical Realism

f r a n z   w r i g h t

                                     from Celan

Think along with me: Paris sky, spacious eternity of fall.
From the flower girl we bought these hearts:
they were blue and bloomed in water.
It started raining in our room
and the neighbor came over, Monsieur Le Songe, a haggard
               little man.
Then we played poker, I misplaced my pupils;
you let me wear your hair, I lost it, he depressed us.
He walked through the door, the rain following.
We were dead and could still breathe.

From The Beforelife, 2001 ~ publisher Alfred A. Knopf, New York
This poem was nominated for a Pushcart Prize

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