Three Poems
Ian Mole, UK
Kristina Mullamaa has been teaching English and Swedish at the at the Language Centre of Tartu University in Estonia since 1996. In 2006 she defended her doctoral thesis on the profession making of liaison interpreters. Her research interests include cross-cultural issues, motivation and ethics. E-mail: kristina.mullamaa@ut.ee
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Absolute Zero: Birkenau, July 1993
The Dogs of Thira
Dogs in a W11 Style
There are ghosts in my eyes.
There are tears in the sky.
There are beautiful flowers
where the millions died.
There’s a weight on my head.
There are words left unsaid.
There are incessant whispers
from the mouths of the dead.
There’s a heavy black spell.
There are glimpses of hell.
There are terrible barracks
with a kippery smell.
There’s the scale of the camp.
There’s the bleakness and damp.
There’s an old man who’s lagging
behind near the ramp.
There are still railway tracks.
There are ruins of stacks.
There are thousands of Fascists
denying these facts.
And I’ve left this till last
- though millions were gassed
there’s a feeling we never
will learn from the past.
Never fear a dog in Thira.
They say “hi” with their tails
or if this ploy fails,
they will plead with their eyes
as they pad ever nearer.
Never fear a dog in Thira.
They’ll appear at your door
as you gaze at the shore
in a hungover daze
from that 5% bira.
Never fear a dog in Thira.
They are happy to lead
- they’re a jovial breed
and as good as a guide
though a guide would be dearer.
Never fear a dog in Thira.
They will wait by your side
as you take one more slide
when a gap in the clouds
makes the coastline look clearer.
Never fear a dog in Thira.
They will harass a cat,
but what’s strange about that?
If the cats harassed them,
surely that would be queerer.
Here they come – the doggy chums.
Sniffing lamp-posts, sniffing bums.
Forget about a doggy fight-
to sniff the world is their delight.
They form a chain from snout to bot
as down the street they gladly trot.
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