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This poem is taken from PN Review 201, Volume 38 Number 1, September - October 2011.

Four Poems Helen Tookey
America

Broad and smiling as a Sunday
rivermouth, impossible word

between us: america.
Wide and easy speech, argument smooth

and seamless as an egg. Half-tongued
I stumble through the station at

Stephansplatz, past memorials
to lost wars, and to the playground

in the beautiful gardens, where
I watch my children disappear

undisturbed: macht's nichts, sie kommen
wieder zurück. America

is where we can never meet,
though we lived there together for years.



In the dying days of the year we walked
...


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