deepundergroundpoetry.com

Paper sculptures

In the fires that scorched the Torah's rights
 Manuscript's trod into the muddy street, dogs scavenging.
 White knuckles, behind the iron fist; wolves circling
Swastika ideology that wrapped a minority, to gag, xenophobia.
The rush hour into a grey nowhere, the rats crept all over each.
 Cattle trucks towards starvation, black mass to incarnation.
Skeletons ever haunt, emaciated, behind chain fence pretence.
 The free world watches, demagogues, still defile the innocent.
More than prayer rising from the Zyklon B gas edits.
Burn our will, with a branding iron; shalom, how many candles lit?
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