from Gerhard Kretchmar Takes His Son to Tiergardenstrasse Four

He and she like to have sex on a Saturday, after a nice sauna. And that is what made the little Kretschmar.

William the Conqueror salted the earth to ensure no further planting. Like Carthage, she will bear no more great heroes. She will go to the cemetery with the small bronze box of wire brush, and she will clean her mother’s grave and cry. And then again wash the white lace curtains that hang flat from their thin bronze rod. She cares for the house, and for all inside it, but there is much to mourn.

Because there is always little Kretschmar.

The little Kretschmar sleeps on his side and his parents look on in despair.

Salt was poured on the lands and the owner executed, his head on a pike, his house demolished. That is what he wishes could be done, whenever he looks on at the little Kretschmar.

He and she, penitent, chop at the sauna with an axe, and pull out the nails from the broken boards, and burn the wood.

The little Kretschmar is five months old.