The wall
Ilsa Schmidt was
no-one
in particular
she sometimes
acted in the theatre, sometimes
waited tables at the club
She was an ordinary citizen
of the GDR
After the wall came down
Ilsa saw the twenty-four folders
of typed white pages of information collected
by the secret police
about who
she talked to, where she went
what she read
contributed by her workmates
neighbours, friends
her mother
the boyfriend who disappeared in the night
Her twenty-four folders
took up a small part
of a large shelf
which took up a small part
of an enormous building
filled wall-to-wall
with shelves of identical
black folders
that you could lie end-to-end and
they’d reach around the world
and if you piled them
one
on top
of the other
they would topple
and crush you
Ilsa was a suspicious person
a person under suspicion
She was known
to read dubious books
associate with intellectuals
Her subversive tendencies
were proven when she cheered
when she heard
on the radio
that it was all crashing down
She left her door
unlocked, rushing
to the wall
laughing
with joy and terror, she joined
the others
as they punched
and pushed and smashed
until they were all covered
with black folders
and typed white pages
falling through the air
Lady Chatterley loves
She doesn’t need background
music to show it
The moss drips with anticipation
the daffodils are opening their blooms
The first time is unsatisfactory
The second time an improvement
their bodies still separate
they remove no clothes
they do not talk
Out of doors is best
and under a tree
kneeling over his lap
understanding crosses her face
Later, she is drenched by the rainstorm
She is a lady
he a miner’s son
But he knows how to warm the porcelain
spoon in
the right amount of tea
pour the just-boiled water
wait, then tip
the teapot
without spilling a drop
Lying on her back
in the squelching mud
she is a wood nymph
She is laughing
He is laughing too
His years of silence have broken
they have learned to talk
their words come in rushes
stumble over each other, embrace
and roll and laugh together
He takes her to his
most intimate places:
his past,
his fears
This is the closest they have ever been
She asks ‘Will you come for me?’
He says ‘I will’
