– 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.