Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to grow...


Claudia Bierschenk

Perestroika Silence

remember, sister
helicopters in the dark
oversized insects
stirring polka dots
on night’s black overcoat

gazing out the window
into the eastern sky
we used to count them,
monotonous humming -
our lullaby

when the Russians left
their airbase abandoned
when our part of the world
had almost blended with the other

sleep eluded me for hours
in this long awaited silence


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