Tanya Kern

1999

FOR THE DISINHERITED for my daughters

As if the constellation tacked to legend had seen through the smoke cracked mirror and opened code on the tracks I made.
Why did I say that? As if no bombs dropped on Belgrade and the holes in the wounded are there to let light in.
A woman lives in the house. She plays with her cobras and writes to the window. She asks for a dream. She is a stranger in this land. Milk blood at morning.Red milk at noon. Who will drink.
your ashen hair Rainer
your golden hair Jessica

As if the gunned down children got up to do their homework and no one is listening to prozac tonight.
A woman sits in the house. she writes to her cobras and waits for a dream and plays with the window. She is a stranger in my land. Milk blood at morning. Red milk at noon. Who will drink?
your ashen hair Rainer
your golden hair Jessica

As if Milosovich sat all night reading Dostoyevsky and no one is trying to get home.
She lives in my house. She sharpens her pencil and plays for the cobras and talks to the moon. She is a stranger in my land. Milk blood at morning. Red milk at noon. Who will drink?
your ashen hair Rainer
your golden hair Jessica

and in a distance bombs on Iraq spilled water and seed; while the Oka wove barbed wire baskets I opened my mouth and gave birth to a daughter. Blood moved me and love—this code I ate...
how to break it for life? I live in the house. I write for the cobras and talk to my daughters and sing to the east. I am a stranger in this land.
Milk blood at morning. Red milk at noon. What is written in blood? It is
getting dark
your ashen hair Rainer
your golden hair Jessica

Tanya Kern