Wednesday, 7 March 2018

5-minute Poem: Schlachtensee



there were peaceful moments there when you felt the whole city had melted away - sun shining constant - and the trip had made it all the better - travelling by train makes the pace rattle and soothe -
"your head has time to adjust to the new location"
- and this, a place only a few miles outside of the capital city of one of the industrial powerhouses of the world, whether or not the industry is decayed block techno squats
- and this a place where the midges stand in a halo, the nonstop sun is reflected and refracted through pines and that water
- you sink into sediment -
space is granted to you alone, even as you pass other bathers,
even as you know you'll return to the sausage and chips/the bar benches and beer
even though the train station waits at the end of the swim-reading-nude day
ach du scheiße: Guernsey discovers nudism in Germany
- on this point a moment, forgive me: a statuesque woman, who looks like she's hiked halfway across the country, small dog in tow, stops just short of the path and strips off completely before plunging into the cold water - is this why I remember Schlachtensee?

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