i am dead but i have just made it
i call your number on my telephone
bright blue letters spell out
Rees, Rhees, Reese
this is not your name
but I call you anyway

a tall man is beside me as I sort through
sweaters and pieces of self that I loved
so dear
wrapping picture frames in rainbow wool
longingly leaving what cannot fit
in this small pack

and riding the train with a white-haired girl
she is edging closer to the door
the soldiers are closer to her
the papers in my pocket are blue
they guarantee I make it across this border

and in mein vaterland
I am received
by worried gastmutter and blankets warmly wrapped
around each exposed body part

"I know that girl who died"
I say
and die Eltern exchange a glance
so sad
and ask me
if i want to return to the train.