Secret safe, almost soundproof hiding place
by a heart beat missed, Gestapo overlooks.
They collar others.
Their train ride is not for me this time
across a landscape of Kafkaesque villages
to courtyards of barber wire, where snows of ash rain down.
Since then, I've lost my taste for barbecue.
Of Holocaust it reminds.
Friday, April 30, 2010
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