Jennifer Johnson
Why can't I recall
my birthplace, or even
the first language I played in?
They say I wandered off,
was picked up by a soldier
who put me in his tank,
caterpillar-tracked me
to a deserted village.
There, the killing machine
released a tiny girl
dressed in pretty flowers.
Women appeared slowly,
their relief noisy
as they gathered round
to pick up the child.
A year later, in England,
I’d scream each time
someone came near me.
I still can’t find
my birthplace
on any map.
Page(s) 42
magazine list
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- Lamport Court
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- North, The
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- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
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- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
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- Weyfarers
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- Yellow Crane, The