Both of the images are from the Getty collection, public domain, Eva Braun. First poem written from the second image, second poem from the first. xj
Shadow Song for Narcissus
“When Fraulein Braun first met the Fuhrer,” she writes, “she was seventeen and fresh from her convent school, attractive but not beautiful, not by any means stupid but limited by the tastes of her class and age; quite unsuited to bear the weight of history… Their relationship is worth investigating because his treatment of this one young woman -- first enthralling, then dominating and finally destroying her -- reflects in microcosm the way he also seduced and destroyed the German people.” Angela Lambert, The Lost Life of Eva Braun.
Long before the Fuhrer kissed you beneath
the gaslights of Munich
You went alone down to the inlet in the Tyrol
Laying a blanket down in the salt flat
And in your white bathing suit, bent your back
Arching toward the sky.
The photograph then is of a girl glad to be alive
Like other girls, tan and muscular thighs
Surrendered to an auguring brevity of sun
All you knew before winter’s curtain fell
Over Europe-- the cove’s lulling haziness, that you
were safe there, untainted by the monstrous hands
were safe there, untainted by the monstrous hands
That would wake you and make of your heart
A shell closed against itself and love for all time.
Oh weight of infamy.
That you who were at his side with your red mouth
and diamonds when he ordered
and diamonds when he ordered
Massacre on massacre, death march and gassings
More than a fact of history: an artifact
terrible as an eyeball leering from black velvet--
terrible as an eyeball leering from black velvet--
No pealing carillon, no Bach reverberating peak to peak
Redeems any of this, the fine bone powder
That is ash, the sorrows annually turned over
In Bavarian loam—the Isar ribboning through Munich
Lit with the civility of the lamps
Along a civil path—as if
No one nearby had the shame-soap
In the cupboard, an onyx swastika
In a drawer in a silk handkerchief.
.
What of the girl you were, follies
That led you away like a gazelle into the forest
Beset upon by Herr Wolff, in his marrow-heavy pelt
of need and loneliness
Perhaps the photos themselves are embedded
With fine dark cyanogenic powder
Occluding the sad premonitions
Of dreaming mountains,
Thinning clouds.
-
To see that you exulted there, canoed those shallows
Let out like a fine Arabian mare from her stall
To cartwheel on the shore,
Narcissus among the water lilies
He, watching you from the Kehlstein eyre,
Waiting for you, your own
Sniper in the tower.
May 20, 2011
(AH used Herr Wolff as his name)
Evensong
A face is streaked with lightning and then volcanic
with rage. Whose face. Whose hand
claws at the light-- someone drowns here. Drowns
In sorrow over fallen robins and the orphans
of spring. Someone's word breaks. It is that person's
face, the face of a liar, a good deed doer, a Christian
And a scholar, a maypole and a martyr, a frivolity. A stone
black with guarded water. A philistine, a shell
arms amputated, love of salt unrequited.
Clustered lemon-shaped lights over
the bridge the wide bridge the city built
to distract from its sins, fiascos, and snafus.
Dylan sings in China
pale with obeisance. A commune
and a thousand-year broken promise; felled
Sugarcane reprisal. We choke on rice. We divide
the fish among the multitudes; eyeless
we wander forth into the hills. I was forced
To the roller coaster and made for terror. I could
not cry out. In the sacristy I hovered over the Host. I
took God's body Into me and I retched with fear.
I gave you my heart and you bent it into a mirror.
You fractured the mirror and your face splintered. I rose
up over you, a lascivious vindicator, thinking
To annex you. Die I begged of you, before
The Lippizans performed their caprioles for
the Eva Brauns of the night.
cc
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews, Fellow, National Endowment for the Arts in Literature, 2011
9 comments:
I am blown away but how well you write =)
I like what you are working to do here; these are indeed compelling pictures, particularly the second one. Have you ever read Symborska's poem "Hitler's First Photograph"? It's chilling.
Thanks, Dawn-- I'll look up that poem. best-- xxj
Jen, your poetry is outstanding and the stories of Eva fascinating. I guess I'd overlooked this tragic figure and now I want to know more. Thanks for these.
Two excellent poems, coming at the topic from completely different angles. The second, for me, could stand alone, but the first evokes the picture so brilliantly. You tone and choice of word and image is exceptionally well-suited to the subject. I thought these lines superb:
What of the girl you were, follies
That led you away like a gazelle into the forest
Beset upon by Herr Wolff, in his marrow-heavy pelt
of need and loneliness...
Strange how even monster-men have women who love them.
Whenever, I read your work Jen it is obvious and reassuring that I'm in the presence of a considerable intellect and very skilled poet. Both these poems are challenging and significant. I felt the first, was for me, the most accessible, but I'm sure the second will more than reward more careful reading. Thanks for your visits and comments upon my poems. They're truly appreciated. James.
Victoria, Kerry, James-- in turn I must say that it means the world to have your input. There are so many of us deserving to be read, lingered over. We all keep each other going, yes? xxxj
Re second poem-- it's in my new vein of being more allusive and elusive in my work-- to loosen up the narrative arc or the imagistic field or something-- I don't like to get to technical or fall into MFA-speak re my work-- but the goal in poems like the second one is to let meaning emerge from the accretion of images-- to stop making literal and linear sense...xxxj
your words sing.
keep it up.
Greetings,
How is your day?
Please share your poetry with JP potluck today,
Have fun!
Love your talent, as always, appreciate your support.
Old poems or poems unrelated to our theme are all welcome!
xoxox
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