She digs her fingernail
into the foil like a blade,
ripping away the silver shroud
to find the pale corpse
of a pill laying naked
in its shallow grave.
She craves the sweet nothingness.
May it swoop through
the branches of her body
to soothe in time for the tea party
for two.
Her guest arrives.
She takes his cloak and asks
if he would prefer to leave
his scythe on the porch step.
How cliché of the British
to resort to tea drinking
at times such as these.
She always thought it strange,
ever since she arrived
in London from Berlin
and was offered tea –
with milk of all things!
The clock strikes two.
“Ah”, she sighs.
Exactly sixty years since
her guest left his crimson seal
stamped on the temples
of her parents.
Author's Note: This poem was based on the accounts of a Holocaust survivor who related her story of how she escaped Germany on the British organised 'Kinder Transport' that rescued many Jewish children before the start of the Second World War.
Comments
Silver Spun Sand | October 20, 2008 - 15:13
Another remarkable poem, Magic, that cuts to the quick.
I had no idea how this was going to end when I first started reading, and then you mention the visitor with the scythe and my brain starts whirring. Even so, until the word 'Berlin', I was still kept guessing and then it all gradually fell into place. And then, of course, the last four lines that hit the reader like a bolt from the blue.
A difficult subject to write about but you carry it off with maturity and an obvious insight. Well done:-)
Tina x
tamara (not verified) | October 21, 2008 - 21:16
I love the way in which the poem opens up with extreme intensity.
"She digs her fingernail
into the foil like a blade,
riping away the silver shroud
to find the pale corpse
of a pill laying naked
in its shallow grave."
You are so descriptive.
It is a poem that "Opens up" into a blossoming finale.
I find your work very admirable.X
MistakenMagic | October 22, 2008 - 14:12
Thank you girls :) I always appreciate your comments - and yes, I intended the poem to be very cryptic as I think being subtle in poems with a subject matter like this is essential to create an atmosphere. Thanks again for reading!
Magic x
Nathan Bednarek | October 30, 2008 - 00:28
'She takes his cloak and asks
if he would prefer to leave
his scythe on the porch step.
How cliché of the British
to resort to tea drinking
at times such as these.'
The lines are pure genius. The poem is really powerful and it's full of lines just as good as the ones I quoted. Well done.
Nathan.
(PS, I drink my tea with lemon and just one teaspoon of sugar- that comes from my Polish roots ;-p)
MistakenMagic | October 30, 2008 - 09:29
I really value your opinion Nathan and love reading your reviews :) Well I'm British through and through - I take my tea with milk and two sugars!