Hamburg wraps itself around two lakes
Formed by the river Alster.
Once in a very rare winter they freeze solid
Conjuring new space in the center of town.
A sudden shortcut in the sunshine
A huge white loop to skate or ski
A nighttime fairground where you go to drink hot gluehwein
Bought from lantern-lit booths suspended over water.
To eat sweet powdered pastries and hear accordions play
To watch the crowds of people laughing
On a street that’s made of waves.
It’s something to see but I never saw it
Twenty years ago, at twenty-three.
My bus stopped right around the corner at the Rathaus
Every day I wanted to go look
But grief had cut the circuit
Connecting wish to act
Had shrunken movement to a shuttling
On a single tunneled track.
I knew it lay just out of sight, beyond the building’s edge
Where brindled stones, tight-mortared, mounted to the sky.
A viscid nausea coiled around my ribs
Want but can’t want but can’t want but can’t
Until there was no longer any choice.
You could say it’s the reason
I saw Christo wrap the Park
Why I walked the Golden Gate despite the wind
And I greet the ocean every summer day I can.
But it’s also why I dream sometimes
Of winter dryads locked in leafless wood
Their heartglow ebbing almost to the root
Arm-branches outstretched, black and stiff with ice.
About Kimberly Gladman
