May 2009

Niko Sonnberger


This marks an author's first online publication Niko Sonnberger is twenty-three years old and has spent her life being a nomad. She speaks three languages and is currently acquiring a degree in filmmaking in Hollywood. Things she will not be acquiring include an orange tan and small dog.

Petrin Hill    

I was pink and languid
when I reached the top.
The film camera kissed me here,
this was my first.
My hands could have melted
glass and diamonds!
The kite boy's cheeks blossomed.

Don't forget May Day!
Theo made fried chicken and
he showed me heaven and hell
on his arms.
Jess and I were supine on the grass,
so no one would see us.
We whispered so not to wake up.

Ginsberg was crowned King of May
on this baby lump of earth.
I crowned myself in dandelions.
I'll play the Queen if you play the Jester.
I had a thought by the flower tree.
There was nothing plastic or violent,
anywhere, at all, everywhere.

Earth, she is the absolute antique.
I return to the hill next spring.
Nothing was comely or cardiac.
I was opaque with chocolate and opium.
Michael couldn't look me in the eyes.
The cut was my mouth
and it would not heal.
The monolith was my eyes.

I am sorry.
I had half a thought by the flower tree.
Wrap me in cellophane
and push me down the hill.



Niko Sonnberger: Poetry
Copyright ©2009 The Cortland Review Issue 43The Cortland Review