← v19n1, Spring 2020
Poetry · Volume 19, Number 1

Collection & Identification

unexploded:

On average, Germany’s Kampfmittelbeseitigungsdienst deactivates a bomb every two weeks. An

occurrence that crops up with every new building built. Every new Rome roamed.

The crows pick at trash on the dais of the Holocaust Memorial.

In German, reported speech is indicated via the use of what is known as the

Konjunktiv I. Culler sagte,

vielleicht sei Literatur wie ein Unkraut.

ordinance:

Last week in Berlin, another bomb to be dismantled. We were all moaning, the S-Bahn colicky,

my translation for the trains

when unregelmäßig. My friend from Donetsk showed me a photo on his phone

of an ax mounted on a wall with a feather tied to it. We are trying to escape,

he said. The ax hung

over his head.

unexploded:

For the quincentennial celebration of the Reformation, Lego made a Martin Luther, but

they couldn’t justify changing the machinery for just one man.

He is all constituent parts.

Harry Potter hair,

a Darth Vader body, the torso

a nameless knight from the castle

collection.

unexploded:

The first message ever sent over the internet was host to host. When

she left the convent, there was no explanation,

just a prayer and visitations. When asked what’s next,

she said, “I’ll lie in the fetal position and watch Netflix.”

He slapped her with packing tape for the journey

home. “Fragile,” it said. The author attributed

the dire results, in part, to an “existential

conflict.”