Heimisch by Diane Schenker

 

Home. Hamlet. Haunt. Hangar: situate.
I slid off its green surface like a mirror sheds spit.
How I loved that dreamed green on a blue sky and
popcorn clouded day, view from the bridge—it would
be mine! I snapped my fingers at things I did not like.

A life built on sand, not watching the tide come in,
heel-pounding dreamer awash, beached, forgetting, those
roots in Breuckelen, Broken Land, of millinery and starting over,
fur stitched in summer’s sweat. Geh weiter weg!
How much more away could I get? Start over.

The spoked wheel flings landings about its rim then
gasp! air! first breath after thick sleep, dream draining
so quickly there’s just a litter of empty envelopes and
accidents. Triangulate from one crash to the next, map it,
part story,
part weather and rock.

Name it home.

 

DIANE SCHENKER’s poetry has been published in The Gettysburg Review, Subtropics, Gargoyle, Writers’ Bloc, and The Squaw Valley Review, among others. She is the author of the chapbook, Relation/Couch/Dreaming. Diane has worked and taught in theater and opera, and held various day jobs. She currently lives in New York City.