Poem from Eva Gerlach's new collection 'Ontsnappingen'

no thing

  

In the cellar I held my little sister on my lap. She’d just

turned four. I placed my hands over her ears

so she would not hear the loud banging

but she felt it and she saw the others crying,

she screamed her head off. Then I repeatedly took

my hands from her ears to hit her

so she should have something to cry about

someone to be angry with. When we emerged

and everything was ruins with arms and legs everywhere

she didn’t cry and said nothing and hid herself beneath the pot

that an apple tree grew in there she sat on her own

a day and a night then the men came then it got

so that things no longer knew us. No thing.

That’s how it went, that’s why we ran off. She’d just

turned four, my little sister, when it began, whenever.