Das Wienheim

Fresh Find, Poetry by K.Hartless
Wine Bar by Mike Daneshi

Wine bar

zig-zag lights

industrial soft white

metal and the open door of night.

In Germany,

I dream in grey,

an homage to the wall days

and even buried deep

in the Bavarian heart

I’m afraid–

never know what Mutti’ll say:

a different rule,

a different day.

But when you grow up on rations

you don’t know a feast,

which can taste like a wine bar

date with yourself after weeks.

The chatter a bit like clucking hens,

hooks without grins,

and grey goodbyes.

It’s Germany,

so I won’t dare cry.

© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved

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