the ovens slept Poem by Uljana Wolf

I
berlin

when we awoke with nests
in our hair we named night

the convalescent fathers slammed
all the traps shut shovel-handed

the ovens slept without shep
herding us into their oblivion

*

II
glauchau

when we were sick from soot
and the dry-bulk of archives

we moved with our grandfathers
into a boarded-up signal tower

watched the old rail guards
set their hands on the lever

through the dead switch line
ran a tremble as of traveling

*

III
malczyce/maltsch

when the discarded wagons
on the sidetrack dreamed

of reloading point at the oder's knee
of freight chutes and culm

we stole one sluggish car
from its rail from its bed

letting sparks in empty warehouses
leap in our direction

*

IV
The small train stations without a town.
………………………………….Wolfgang Koeppen

but when we scattered out on
an open stretch between sites

since the stars too one says
stoke their ovens above us

we sparked through landscape
that lay like fly ash around us

once more the route through to
the house of the switch operator

*

V
legnica / liegnitz

when we traveled in trains men
who weren't our fathers carried

the country in hand-braided baskets
(mushrooms beers) drowsily in the compartment

the smoke from their mouths still
hung like night long stuck in our hair