Starting Point

Kayak-splashed mosquito-bitten primrose-hosing afternoon,
Polish-German border.

On one side of the kayaks
bustling churches, angels draped across their ceilings,
freckly-chested bottle blondes on painted tiptoe,
pilsner-swilling builders inked with
flags and patriotic slogans.

On the other, dogma-swaddling
headscarves of obedience,
robes of servitude
caging every inch of female passion
under whipping eyes above falafel-speckled wiry beards.

A statue of liberty shrouded in pink
with rainbow and superstate flags in her fist
trumpets in German and English,
in Polish as well, to remind them:
“Europe starts here”.

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