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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3381 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Monochrome Days Carole Barley (Vienna) This was a winter spent biting on hand harvested turnips. Broken nails,the surreal digging of a swimming pool. Summer saw skeletal men trying to remember water polo. There was no gas, only thin monochrome days, morning cuttings of ropes to release hanged men who had sung so earnestly at the concert party the night before. Russians came with apples and horses, helped build handcarts from caskets. Fingerless gloves pointed to the border, took boots from the dead for the living's journey; wished the travellers well. Dresden caved in on itself, the hidden emerged to somehow get home. All but a few names lie wordless, history concentrating on the mass. The starved who survived found cancer, madness, or silence still kept under marble. |
