Paragraph 175

Kit Williamson

 

 

The entire class turned brown, brown shirts

and little black shorts; one boy sat alone

in blue, but not us, not one of us.  We made love

in the barrooms of Weimar Berlin, all of us

 

together then like perfect Christians, beatific, 

we thought being German would be enough.

That was true romance: a stalled train,

the wheat fields bending outside Berlin,

 

the singing forest, trees stripped of their limbs

in perfect rows, bodies hoisted up like Angels

on the hooks.  With time, they’ve all been torn off

 

like silken wings breathed into dust, the pages

of the album stripped off like printed skin,

those perfect bodies washed clean of sin.

   

        


Kit Williamson is an actor and writer living in New York City.  His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The California Journal, The Interlochen Review, Cause and Effect and The Southeast Review.

 

  

 Return