Poem on belonging: A Traveller’s Lodge

A Traveller’s Lodge

By Natalie Dunn

 

Seized by twofold darkness:

Two stools, one fallen,

an empty room.

The place I live in

with a lost girl from Christchurch

and a bewildered beauty from Boston

who is making some Chinese tea.

The French lady forfeited her accent somewhere,

she is not looking.

The farmer from Munich is nervously laughing

and even after years doesn’t get the jokes.

I say that it’s good to have a president

who does not think irony is a country

in the Middle East.

The girl from the country of eternal spring is laughing out loud.

The Boston girl is offended.

The French sips wine through a straw from a box.

The Munich farmer dials a psychiatrist.

 

Natalie Dunn comes originally from Prague but lives in Northumberland with her British husband and their two children. In her home country she published three books under the pen name Natalie Nera.

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