Poezie
Ezra Molitor
outside on the sports ground
boys are playing football
with winter hats and shorts above knees
they roll around in snow, run like crazy
each time someone falls
the frost bites at their skin, it burns
so then they run faster
to get warm again
we´re talking second wave post world war literature
for a moment I lose track of the game
because there´s a book that talks about a class just like ours
where four boys get dragged out
and killed
for a silly drawing they made
outside someone screams
but I don´t turn my head
I listen
soon, the game ends with a draw
the snow starts falling again
it´s winter as I remember
wet and cold and starving
we are as I remember
I hate to see us falling
but it grows on me, eventually
and maybe, next year, when we´re gone
far away from this place
I´ll like what I remember