Megan eats grapes

Father, I say
If only poetry could tell it backwards, true,
Cariad, he says
Begin with the truth against the world.

Father, we are
Playing shadows pinned against Bavarian sky
Megan, he says
Under that hat, you’re a cross, a crossing out.

Father, I watch
Sideways, beneath, at his face
I see, the white
Knife flash, slicing hills with blood-red flags.

Father, I say
If poetry could tell it backwards, true,
Cariad, he says
Begin with the truth against the world.

Father, we are
Playing shadows with snow-scratched Alps,
Megan, he says
Watch the sunlight draw you inside a black cross, crossing out.

Father, I peer
Sideways, beneath, at him slicing hills,
I see, his white
Knife flash, sepia sky stained, bloodied flags.

, Shadow play, we stand tall, black Bavarian silhouettes

As blood-red flags stain the sepia sky

Fuhrer, I say
I look at you sideways, beneath
Megan, he says
I slice mountains with a white knife

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  • © 2014 Elen Lewis
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