Berlin is green. It is made up of old growth and new growth.
A fire took place here, a conflagration.
It’s called conflagration because it started with flags.
A flag is a mark. If there’s a mark, there’s a market.
I come from the market, make dinner, and engage in struggle.
It is a struggle to get my daughters to sleep. They sleep on bunk beds.
The bunk beds are contemporary. They come from Ikea.
They were transported by trucks. My daughters are transported.
There is a herd of unicorns on the rug below them. They come from
developing markets.
In markets that are already developed, philosophers say that unicorns
do not exist.
There’s only one step from the remarkable to the marketable, and the
unicorns have taken it.
So say the people of developing markets. But the philosophers do not
hear them.
A marketing campaign at the airport says this city is Done with walls.
A ring of barbed wire around the airport ensures safety.
from Eugene Ostashevsky, The Feeling Sonnets (Carcanet and NYRB Poets, 2022)