Lynx print


Lynx print

Had I not been awake I would have missed it:                                                                             the wind abruptly blew the window open,                                                                            sending a blank page to me – a leaf                                                                                             from the forest of my study. Also, a lynx                                                                                      who keeps returning to this desk                                                                                                where my fingers move over                                                                                                       empty spaces –                                                                                                                                    the pages of a thin, white notepad.

In an autumn afternoon scrubland                                                                                                   or a summer field wet from evening shower,                                                                           forest edge, roadside of a country lane                                                                                       hung with fog of a damp winter morning,                                                                                        it finds me everywhere, unexpectedly,                                                                                  uncalled for but not unwelcome, past                                                                                             the hollow reservoir of a tea cup, paws                                                                               delicately touching the undergrowth of thought                                                                            as it sneaks onto the plain                                                                                                                   of the page where it leaves                                                                                                                  its prints on leaves                                                                                                                               no longer clear and empty

as through the sluicegate                                                                                                                     of the point of the pen one paw                                                                                                   peeps out. Then another. And another                                                                                          and another until the lynx is back                                                                                               again – the words are written.


With a line from Seamus Heaney’s ‘Had I not been awake’.

Published in Sheila-Na-Gig, Vol. 4.1, Fall 2019, September 1, 2019)

About Trackking

SVEN KRETZSCHMAR is a poet and writer from the the southwest of Germany. He writes poems in English (and, rarely, in German) and absurd short prose in German. Aside from writing, he sometimes expands his creative work to painting, drawing and book illustrations. Sven Kretzschmar is a poet and writer from the southwest of Germany, who has read Philosophy and English at Saarland University (BA), Modern and Contemporary European Philosophy in Luxembourg (MA) and Medical Ethics at UCD (MLitt). His poetry has been published in the OTwo magazine of UCD’s The University Observer, the catullan, Skylight 47, and Coast to Coast to Coast, Ropes, and The Wild Word among others, and he was awarded 1st prize in the Creating a Buzz in Strokestown competition 2018. Further work has appeared with Poetry Jukebox in Belfast and is forthcoming Smithereens Literary Magazine and in several anthologies from Irish publishers scheduled for autumn 2019. Sven is the illustrator of Grimwig and Bert Borrone’s Perpetual Motion, both authored by Bert Hornback, and the editor of Think Pieces. Food for Thought (a festschrift). He is the current acting chairman of the German-Irish Society Saarland and a former coordinator of the European Federation of Associations and Centres of Irish Studies as well as of the Leuven Centre for Irish Studies.
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