einmündig | a poem

you consist of memories

untouchable

*

her worn-out fading legs

wait for you in a slaughterhouse

confused

*

the world rests in her skin

her cracking knees hold in the pain

*

and she whispers to herself in disbelief

I am a child, in this puddle, I am still a child

*

I’d rather you left me here

the accumulated puddle

*

my mother’s body is six years old

*

silence conceals a parallel world

vineyards feel like a home that tried to suffocate me