Agnes Vojta: “Vineyard in Dresden”

 

 

Vineyard in Dresden

The path between the ivied walls
is paved in standstone. Grass
grows from the cracks. I follow
the trails of childhood. 

The cobwebbed door
has not been opened in a long time,
but someone cleared the steps
leading to it. I climb 

the stairs into the vineyards, 
breathe history, mine and the land’s. 
Lush and green, the grapes 
promise a rich harvest. 

Below, the river sings a love song 
to the city that is no longer mine.
Eighteen years change
a person and a place.

Not even the trees
are the same; the drought
felled the old oak in the clearing
we called the witches’ dance hall.

But the hills and the river
are still there, and dearer
to me than the castles
and cathedrals that lure the tourists.

And the summer light 
through the maples remains 
unchanged, as all else 
grows old and distant.

 

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019). Her poems recently appeared in Red River Review, Minute Magazine, Nixes Mate Review, The Blue Nib, As It Ought To Be Magazine, Former People, Thimble Literary Magazine, and elsewhere.

 

More By Agnes Vojta:

And on the Seventh Day

Flotsam

 

Image Credit: Eugène Atget “The Old Château, Sceaux” (1923) Digital image courtesy of the Getty’s Open Content Program.

“And on the Seventh Day” By Agnes Vojta

 

 

And on the Seventh Day

God had finished his work and thought
a rest day would be a nice change.
But he didn’t have anybody to play golf with,
because Satan was busy.
After the thrill of creating,
He wondered
what to do to amuse Himself.

So He figured,
let’s give those humans free will
and see what they do with it. Perhaps
watching them will be
a fun pastime.

And He settled down to watch
civilizations rise and fall
and humans slaughter each other,
and when the same stories played out
over and over again,
He became bored and
wandered off to
create another universe.

This time, He thought,
I’ll make one
without people.

 

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019). Her poems recently appeared in Gasconade Review, Thimble Literary MagazineTrailer Park QuarterlyPoetry Quarterly, and elsewhere.

 

More By Agnes Vojta:

Flotsam

 

Image Credit: William Blake “Ancient of Days” (1794)

“Flotsam” By Agnes Vojta

 

Flotsam

I shipped my past to this continent
in a box I open rarely. In it,

my mother’s amber necklace
and my grandmother’s silver cross,

a dried flower from my prom bouquet,
ribboned letters from old lovers,

notebooks with poems written
thirty years ago in another tongue,

a brass key that opens no lock I know,
a photograph of the house on the hill

that stands now empty, where my voice
still echoes, unheard,
five thousand miles away.

 

About the Author: Agnes Vojta grew up in Germany and now lives in Rolla, Missouri where she teaches physics at Missouri S&T. She is the author of Porous Land (Spartan Press, 2019). Her poems recently appeared in Gasconade Review, Thimble Literary Magazine, Trailer Park Quarterly, Poetry Quarterly, and elsewhere.

 

Image Credit: Marion Post Wolcott “Child bringing home suitcase on sled, Franconia, New Hampshire” (1939) The Library of Congress