3 Resistance Poems by Britta Kollberg

3 Resistance Poems

By Britta Kollberg

Jonah, 2

Is this the closest I will ever get
to you? To swim in bitter liver oil…
And more than fear, I try not to regret

the sleepless night I had when what you said
soaked me in stomach acid. Now, I coil
up here. Is this the deepest I will ever get?

I’m bubbling prayers, though it seems too late…
And I don’t see how I can be here, still.
But more than fear, I try not to regret

my vain attempt to run away from fate.
The darkness fills my mouth with your Hallel.
Is this the clearest sight I’ll ever get?

I should be all devoured by now. Instead
I sink my head down for delivery. I coil
for my new birth. I try not to regret

that I am lost already in my hate
for this metropolis that you let foil
your prophecy. Is this the closest I will get
to doing your will? I will try not to regret.

Roadside

Today my favorite word is
no.
A duoliteral like aa,
like ye, like as
as if
it is of no
importance.
No sense.
No option.
No second thought.
What a freedom to close a revolving door.
No regret.
No i.e.
No go.
No Oz.

Lysistrata can’t carry this

Rosenstrasse Memorial, Berlin

How can it help,
reach through the bars, break the locks
to just stand there,
a small crowd: a few hundred
women, hysteric, demanding, crying—
How can their mere being
there, night after night,
alter anything? How
could it not. How would it?
And where
were the Turkish women,
the Hutu wives, where
are the WASP-waisted girls
to raise their voice for a few hundred
refugees stranded in tiny backyards
of fearful townships proudly protesting
against single men.