In the sweltering green countryside
planes on fire in the blue sky
stood the milk churn
that I stirred with my boy's strong arms
making butter
to earn a pound of wheat
stole furtive looks at the country girl
who already had breasts

it was the last summer of the war
the trains no longer ran
only murder showed up on time
a day's journey away
in the bleak house in The Hague
my mother was watching from the window
when the German officer rang the neighbours' bell
she counted the friends she still had
hidden behind the living-room walls

I'd almost forgotten her
past and future meant nothing to me
All I cared about was the day at hand
my time hadn't yet come
that it would ever be over
was something I couldn't even imagine