by Lauren Delapenha
Donaudampfschifffahrtselektrizitätenhauptbetriebs
werkbauunterbeamtengesellschaft
the first and only time you showed me how to fill the fountain pen with which I write / to no one / you dismantled the parts on the dining table and showed me your present / the innermost part I had / until then / been missing / you stuck the tip into the ink / everything worked by turning / to suck the ink / vein blue through / the syringe / your long fingers bent / around it like the ribcage / of a migratory bird / to get the air out you / turned it twice / to test your handiwork you began the longest word in German on the back / of an envelope / something about a boy and a boat and bureaucracy / the word is like God and / will not fit on the envelope / I cannot remember this / without also remembering the civil engineers / who studied the innermost part / of Dresden / to learn how best to burn it / and your great grandmother who lived / and died / in Dresden / sucked back into this careful accomplishment / of air / and I am / yet to fill the fountain pen without splotching ink / on my hands / see years / later here / are my blue fingers / but you / look / you’d said / both hands in the air / your hands were always / clean /
Lauren Delapenha is a Jamaican poet and English teacher. She earned her master’s in creative writing from the University of Oxford, and her work has received an Oxbelly Fellowship, a Helen Zell and Jamaica Poet Laureate’s Young Writers Prize for Poetry, a Grindstone International Poetry Prize, and a Pushcart nomination.