Poetry

Children,
when I am ash
read by the light of the fire
that consumes me

When it was too much, he went out
of the body’s unspeakable suffering. Rose. Stepped away.

Through lace curtains— 
ravens— 
frozen in terror

The park benches, of course, are ex-Nazis.
They supported the ass of the SS
without questioning; the old stamp “Juden Verboten”
has been painted out.

absence is a margin of strongholds. I go out
and I go out. Love is sequence and
condition: one of the few winter nights