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The train whistles,
black-smokechoked, the Stalinist
station cavernous, deplete of soldiers
Of tanks, a sweet farewell, a box of
chocolates and tapes, Smetana
Farewells enroute to Vienna
From Prague
Having left the city
To its dark angels
In bright sunlight
Chirping about the
Old town beneath the bridges
of the old “hrad”, the black
Castles
Neither castle nor church
Will release me
to this gothic train
to Vienna
filled with irritation
and want
i'm jolted
my ribs cracked by
the sheer force
of iron greed
a deadened voice
announces, repetitive
in czech, in german
the times
the towns
past departure
past arrival, a voice
incomprehensible,
go away!
SHOOO-CHOOO!
SHOOO-CHOOOO!
SHOOOOOOOO!
i thought i sawn him
from the boarding
station
smetana running fresh
as a wound
as a mountain
flower
grave wave
and smile, at attention
music
pouring from lips
bleeding
his great open
wounded mouth
a cucaboo heart thru
which
fillled with such sunlight
he sang
with such hope
i never heard
such feverish hope
g oodbye, i said
goodbye he said
out of breath
good -bye
mr smetana
as now the
deadened voice
bored beyond
the gold that
rims the blackened
soot grey saints
& kings of old sad
bohemia
fell like black snow
like a funny old
brass coin
the station
goodbye
chugs the train
“its is a life
full of feathers!”
he yells thru the mist
and fog
“full of feathers!”
and runs alongside
the dark iron muscles,
trailing feathers
of the ironed train
full of the the angry
fray of promise
I move now
with the passing
parade of time
beyond the parade
of space
leaving behind the h arsh
soft apple dimpled
earth
leaving the soft blowing forests
the river,the bridges of malastrana
the melting jewish cemetery
the churched castles
“ away now away!”
from the
tired insect
softness
of its people
whinning.whinning
i raise my arm
like a precious
sculpture
of a horse
ready to pounce
the secret arming night
to ward away the
city,away
dobri den!
&
dobri noc!
Away, prossim!
I look now
to distinct locations
vienna,venice, turin
rome, the compassed cities
of Europe,where I can find
travel thru
floods to reach
my fathers fields
my ancestors stolen
dreams
I can not now see
from the smoot darkened
windows
mala strana
little town
of bridges
the brightness
I first noticed
I stand erect
eyes raised
scared
goodbye,malastrana
goodbye black witchy
town, goodbye mr smetana
goodby!goodbye!
goodbye!
strangers.
Nick Mancuso
2 nd trip to Prague
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