in Berlin



much time has passed

since the last person was laid to rest

in the old Jewish cemetery in Berlin

though many have been interred since then

lined up by fresh dug holes

shot once from behind

crumpling into the brown earth

tender and malleable as a sigh taken back

into a yawning mouth, or

the napkin from the streetfood stall now drifting along the mossy paths

like a small white hen scratching for crumbs with the sound switched off



stones balance on the sloping shoulders of the grave markers

standing quietly in contemplation or simple remembrance or

dozing in the warm light raining though the cracks of sky

between the towering trees


i watch as my hand emerges from my pocket

carrying a polished pebble from a distant shore and

lays a conundrum for a future archaeologist

a small erratic

marking the time

in a too familiar tune