Lodz Ghetto, 1943
Travel back with me,
I cajole you, Jewishly, femininely
my brown eyes can fade into hazel then green.
I died young, so I rest young.
Our Noble Elder
shook hands with the Devil
He too will be deported.
But that is not now;
That is later.
I travel
in rhyme, in time
and I conversed
with the Angel of Death.
He flirted in the manner
of tearing the wings off an insect.
But that is of no
consequence. I urge
you to follow me even though
I have been dead for close
to a sharp century.
No comments:
Post a Comment