HOTEL BERLIN
In the rooms of a rundown palace
You said, Ruined. You said, Princess.
You said nothing to me
For three long weeks.
The color of that room
Is eel-black.
When I was a girl and still
German, I stood alone
At the end of the sea.
You may have loved me then
I sent a message through the cages
Of a great whale’s teeth.
For three weeks, I did not sleep.
I set jars of sweet milk and baskets
Of bright berries and red
Marmalade outside your door
In the dream
Where you come to me
I kiss your mouth
Tasting the secret
Letters of your history.
I swear
Somewhere in Siberia
A godly ocean of bison
Still roam free.
You, kneeling before me,
In this,
The last and final room.
—previously appeared in the Academy of American Poets