Anja Kampmann

—Ukraine 2017

In the evening glow, The air is opaque,
somehow smudged with the clear smell of industry.
a factory plant, huge blue trains.

The slow old locomotive
near silent in sinking
light.

Straggling, bare chested soldiers.

A woman with her pastries.
A boy and his little sister holding
hands near a column silver-glistening
like all columns here

and the light which
slows everything down.

Sounds of getting on,
Of stepping into.

Twilight. The relentless course
Of the massive river and the
smell No one escapes.

Swaggering for tired girlfriends
in jeans shorts, anxiety takes up the whole bench, wide-legged.

No one believes anything you
say or want to say about
returning.