Monday, May 28, 2012



what extra scrap of bread

what glance from a slop-drunk SS

what rage raised the rusted shovel

struck it on the starving ground

until the whistle ended day

what muscle corded in the thighs

not buckling to the bed of lice of bloody flux

what propped her up when her bowels released

the spoiled cabbage soup and she couldn't hold

her dead-weight head what switched the names

so she was not called what

scarf smuggled from the storage hull

a shred so she could wipe herself

what song muffled in the dark

what glint willed the breath

what saw her and said live

1 comment:

The` Htut Win said...

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