In 1936, a child
in Hitler's Germany,
what did I know about the war in Spain?
Andalusia was a tango
on a wind-up gramophone,
Franco a hero's face in the paper.
No one told me about a poet
for whose sake I might have learned Spanish
bleeding to death on a barren hill.
All I knew of Spain
were those precious imported treats
we splurged on for Christmas.
I remember pulling the sections apart,
lining them up, sucking each one
slowly, so the red sweetness
would last and last --
while I was reading a poem
by a long-dead German poet
in which the woods stood safe
under the moon's milky eye
and the white fog in the meadows
aspired to become lighter than air.
Lisel Mueller's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Blood Oranges by Lisel Mueller )
- Lifeless, Aparna Chatterjee
- The Unnatural Apologie of Shadows, Nathalie Handal
- millions of pleasure...., veeraiyah subbulakshmi
- My Dear Sweet Kira, Michael McParland
- The Writing Competition!, Denis Martindale
- Daru Piyo, Talk To The Girl And Do Naxal.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- Love and Strange Horses—Intima', Nathalie Handal
- debris, oskar hansen
- Les Éventails, Portraits of Passion, Nathalie Handal
- The Hooked & Crooked Men As The Communis.., Bijay Kant Dubey
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