Imagine the countries of Europe erecting Auschwitzian barbed-wire fences
with no man’s land between: grassy lanes lush with ragworth, thistle and buttercup.
Imagine, like water released into channels, migrants flowing into these paths,
growing from trickle to torrent, eventually filling them; a teeming mass
constantly jostled onward to no destination.
The season passing into winter, the grassy paths turned muddy with traffic, then frozen under snow;
a metre to either side border guards watching with disinterested expressions.
Imagine these flowing borders across the map of Europe,
serenaded with the music of its civilization from behind the wires of Hungary, Austria,
the Czech Republic: Mozart, Bartok, Mahler…….
The seasons pass, bodies pile up against the fences like layers of insulation;
and the citizens all snug in their European Agreements.