One Year In Hungary

1. Spring

Peripheral towns; more fire
Walked barefoot from Rajasthan
Divided and torn, mean-while
Translucent girls ship in from Turkey
To chip their teeth on flutes – riches
Rented by the hour.

Here in the fields
Camomile pollen scrapes to sleep
Even the most ardent farmhand.

2. Summer

My balcony hosts a grip of stretching weeds
Anticipating autumn
When lipid clouds will smother
The people of the thermal banks

High in the flatlands
Ten storeys speak a mess of lines
Grasping from the bottom floor
Out to Romanian women

3. Autumn

Misplaced pride marches
Triumphant typical fears –
All conventional

Historic cyclones
Persecutive slivers in
And calls a home ’land’

Identity theft
Forefronting national minds
Life, impossible

4. Winter

Rivers still carve clay
The way they always have
Through softened bones of horsemen’s wives,
Lost Roman walls, and love.

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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