Memory of Rain

it was hungry, i could tell
the yellow bicycle
i was ten, it was hungry
it was raining, i heard
the window told me
i could tell, that old fence
that rusty chain and the street
oh the worms! i could run over,
it was hungry,
that yellow bicycle, yelling
for an umbrella, the pine
overhead, i could tell
no shelter, it was saturday
the window opened, easy
it was damp, the screen cut
the silver fenders, hungry
it was ten, dad slept
i could tell, the vents told me
the grass sank, the wet smell
sloshing boots, it was wet
it was lonely, and hungry
i stood, pausing        by the bike
it was ready, i could tell

Surviving in the Belly of the Wolf

September 9th, 1942, München

Death walking the street
in uniform humming      red
and black, stars hiding.
Lose yourself, now
before they find out.

The belly is a hotel
where you show rapacious
blue eyes a room,
change their sheets
and give them fresh towels,
clean white ones
for blood stained rags.

You know, you make it easier,
more comfortable for them,
so they can sleep at night
after a day of murdering
numbers, that’s all, numbers.

Kill your parents,
cut your hair, switch
tongues, lose yourself,
just to survive
in the belly of the Wolf.