Beached
I watch my body walking on the beach.
Today there is no wind.
The Sargent Schultz in my Gulag 13
shouts “I know nothing!”
He suggests I imagine something
to grab hold of.
It’s all that sky that makes him crazy.
No missus, no fire, no wiener schnitzel.
The beach is empty.
Even the sand is silent.
I don’t hear waves in the penumbra
lapping at my shore.
3 thoughts on "Beached"
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‘No weiner schnitzel’ enjoyed this poem.
The last stanza is a mind teaser. This poem is funny, wistful, and dream-like all at once.
Thank you both for your comments!