– Kron Vollmer –
I had a blouse. It was cute and had a red collar.
When I was young, I loved birds and it caused me pain.
Beneath the branches, beneath my skin, I belonged to this world and the Islands.
I belonged to the dirty photocopiers knowing that revolution would come.
I had a blouse. It was checkered. I have not forgotten the design
and the painful hours of youth. Those who called me names.
Things that should have been lost but remained.
I had a blouse. It belonged to my school uniform.
Little brothers followed me, carrying their trust, their carefully collected
strings. Restraints for their brother wolf.
Time passed. We ate stew. I protected the little ones, the meek.
The newspapers, some disreputable, piled up on the porch unread.