Joanne Maria McNally
Germany in November
Figures like Lowry’s
Stooped in grey
Shrouded in the mist
And dullness
Of a day
Without a beginning
Cross Alexanderplatz
On their way
To work
To shop
Dwarfed
By concrete monstrosities
Bent by Siberian winds
As we roll
Southwards
On plastic-cushioned seats
Lit by lamps
Shaped like tears
Wind generators
Poplar trees
Embroider
Flat landscapes
Blobs of red
Yellow, green leaves
In between
Ghost-factories
Chimneys long dead
Competing
With wind-swept
Trunks
Of spindly fir-trees
As we speed
Southwards
On plastic-cushioned seats
Consuming
Bread rolls and tea
Scars of mined wounds
Pockmark
The flatness
Gape
Into the greyness
Of a day
Broken
By mounds
Flattened on top
Made-over
To conceal
Gorged-out caverns
Beneath
As we race
Southwards
On plastic-cushioned seats
With a view
Shaped like tears
Brigades
Of wind generators
Swing their arms
In time
To currents of air
Neat strips of trees
Line
Green-carpeted heaps
While small farmsteads
And dull-yellow houses
Huddle round
Rare churches
Almost unseen
As we rush
Through the East
On plastic-cushioned seats
With our light
Shaped like tears
Forty shades of amber
Thrust
Out of Undulating
Thuringian
Scarps of pink
Black chequered houses
Nestle in slopes
Laced
By willow-swept streams
Interlocked
By greyish-white
Outcrops
And bunched-up pines
As we weave
Southwards
On plastic-cushioned seats
Warmed by lamps
Shaped like tears
Snakelike contours
Reed-threaded brooks
Glimpses of sunlight
Now in between
On a mill-pond
Six geese swim:
White geese
Beneath
A Bavarian blue sky
As fields of goats
And churches increase
Unscathed
By bloody battles
And harsh industry
As we race
Southwards
Then westwards
Without light
Shaped like tears
Squeaky clean cars
No Trabi in sight
Freshly washed
Windows
Refracting
Sunlight
Colours and forms
Encampments of hens
Lining tracks
Caravans and tents
Crowding
Lakes well-kempt:
Even the gravel pits reflect
A clearly groomed style
As we rush
To nowhere
On plastic-cushioned seats
With light
Made of tears
Berlin, November 2003