Saturday, 24 May 2025

Three Poems by Dr. Aprilia Zank

 






Aprilia says: With music, particularly opera, very close to me, I have been fortunate to attend a great number of opera performances on various world stages, in a wide range of productions from markedly classical to strikingly modern. The impact they have left on me has morphed over the years into a cycle of poems called “preparing for the death on stage”. 

Here are the first three poems.

 

 

 

preparing for the death on stage / 1

 

 

black velvet and pearls 

around your neck like a violin key 

ready for the grand entrance 

onto this stage 

that has been waiting for years 

 

the curtains withdraw 

the overture unfolds 

inhaled by the coveting audience 

reflectors project burning light 

on your transparent eyelids 

the extras take position 

the goat is brought in 

blood gushes from the ripped throat 

skin is tenderly flayed 

 

you wipe off 

the blood from your neck 

lick your fingers 

roam among empty rows 

while the craving audience 

kneel 

creep 

reach out 

for the sticky tickets 

for the next performance

 

 

 

 

preparing for the death on stage / 2

 

 

the bride wore black and a scar 

and she was another man's bride 

the wedding guests 

having come uninvited 

scuttled away their small rounds 

scattered last year's spare seeds 

left 

short of applause   

 

from beneath the ice 

the Infant stares 

at heavenless skies 

while little fish 

nibble 

at the blue of his irises 

 

they had treasured the guilt 

in leaden cases 

in redoubts of memory 

but the deeds of hands 

corroded 

leaked 

crept 

settled like oil 

on the broth of the day 

 

enter the Judge 

with his white cane 

fumbles for paragraphs 

while the defendants 

wearing identical uniforms 

prepare for the last bow


 

 

 

preparing for the death on stage / 3

 

 

you touched her neck 

with white suede gloves 

kissed her 

bit her 

before you placed 

the crown on her head 

among all those bare trees 

foreboding voices 

and skulls 

 

but blood 

penetrated the tissue 

dripped from the crown spikes 

onto her hands 

onto her hands 

kissed for mercy 

by moaning children 

 

and no water on Earth 

not even 

the vogues of Acheron 

would wash off 

those stains 

burning their way 

through the frenzy 

that had slain sleep






 


 

 



Dr. Aprilia Zank received her PhD degree in Literature and Psycholinguistics for her thesis THE WORD IN THE WORD Literary Text Reception and Linguistic Relativity from the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich, Germany, where she started her academic career as a lecturer for Creative Writing and Translation Theory. She is also a poet, a translator and editor of anthologies. She writes verse in English and German, and was awarded a prize at the “Vera Piller” Poetry Contest in Zurich. Her poetry collection, TERMINUS ARCADIA, was 2nd Place Winner at the Twowolvz Press Poetry Chapbook Contest 2013. Her poetry collection BAREFOOT TO ARCADIA was translated in Telugu by the eminent Indian poet Dr. L. S. R. Prasad and published in India in 2018 as a bilingual book. Her Beat poetry book READING THE SIGNS was launched in the USA in 2019. 

Aprilia has received wide recognition in both western and eastern literary circles for her merits and achievements, and her poetry has been widely published in anthologies and periodicals in the UK, Germany, Switzerland, Romania, India, the USA, Canada, Argentina, South-Africa and New Zealand. She is active in many literary and artistic groups in cooperative projects with poets and artists around the world, and a judge in poetry and photography competitions. In 2018, she was awarded the title “Dr. Aprilia Zank – Germany Beat Poet Laureate – Lifetime”, by the National Beat Poetry Foundation (USA).

Aprilia is also a passionate photographer. Many of her images are prize winners and have been selected for poetry book covers.

 

No comments:

Post a Comment

One Poem by Deborah A. Bennett

  Diaspora walking on 16th street  the last temptation  city of angels  the red moon the red balloon  guiding me to the corner of  madison a...