Switzerland 2

February 20, 2008

In the morning
lie in bed and eat some squares
of swiss chocolate.

You can do that when abroad
and when in Bern,
you have no choice.

Drink a cup
of sleek velvet.
Ski the alps, take a tram.

On Wednesday morning in the kitchen,
Uncle Michael scrapes toast –
like climbers chipping ice caps,

Through the window,
curled roofs,
jut against the solid sky.

This morning, Uncle Bundi came
to find me typing in the bedroom.
“Lydia –

she is always writing?”.
Can almost see him
pushing back the winter coat,

bending down
to stroke the fur
on Ika’s back.


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