Remembrance: Paul Celan
(For Jerry and Pierre)
by Steve McCaffery
Or is it afterwards
post-war baby immanent wandlung with corona succubus
city up front lawn law yawns a fremde howdy
pardner, strange
to see and say you at the same time if a door can open
this way it must be March depending on
whether a doctor listens in dismay to the almond blue sixth
of nine Vienna months
a jagged energy phone-call to abandoned matrix hashish
on your eyelids
write up sold, told
the Swiss editor “abyss” is always
a hotel when travelling
and one fails death by forgetting it.
The foggiest streets admit
a technique of rhyme. Death’s duel as death’s deal
likened to a seizure of the disappearance and use of
“removal” as something other than a breached endeavour.
So reaching
this expression noting nothing not even being.
Death’s time in no time Treblinka-smile.
The teeth-harp with no music
hung by a piano wire
that winks.
Harp of rose all Europe an aspen
dark alley of wells
the mirror which boxes in afterthought
why through its need for paint art dies
into History.
And only a face meant?
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