TALE OF THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY Poem by Ulrike Almut Sandig

good evening, Deutschland, turn the fog lights on
we're after telling it like it is, being on cue:

those who want in must chomp their way through
a cake that's not found anywhere in Grimm;

those who want out are gone in two shakes, quicker
than the time it takes to think of a four-syllable word.

just say three times: milkandhoney, milkandhoney.
we've lost our way in your shopping malls

can't tell them apart any more. in Höxter
a fat girl buys an angel of clay and asks

at the till: what does hope mean? in Steinheim
Hakan drinks his coffee strong, he dreamed again he swam across a honey-cake-Mediterranean
sea only to be beached at last on the streets

the brown-silt sands of the Land of Milk and Honey.
in Jena after a three-year trial a priest receives

a hefty fine, for driving towards a police car
to avoid colliding with the line of demonstrators.

my homeland is not only the cities and villages…
it's also the doorman before them. I dreamed

he looks like Kaya Yanar and asks for the code word:
tell me the land where the donkeys have silver noses.

say it three times over: you're not getting in,
you're not getting in, you're -