Auschwitz

It’s raining death in the night
As raindrops spray
Machine gun fire on my umbrella
While puddles count the zeros
Of their bodies,
Ever expanding circles,
Too numerous to number in a lifetime
Like the fallen 6,000,000,
An estimate
Of the rain.

The lightning illuminates the murder:
The dead water,
Already fallen, soaks the ground
Full and regurgitating like saliva
In a dead man’s mouth.
The anger in my stomach thunders–
Sick with revulsion.
A guard says,
“Get in the shower.
Give me
All your clothes.”

Herded into the room, we scream
Because the spigots don’t spew water
But gas.

Posted in Perspective, Poetry