“At the end of every holocaust film I’ve seen and there
are not that many
they show real life survivors and the lines are
Never Again
and some of us like me/stare into these films
down long tunnels of history
wondering how it could have ever happened at all
that a leader and his minions could be so toxic, poisonous
you’d turn against your neighbors
and you could be so oblivious, brainwashed, scared
desperate to be superior or to survive
you’d do anything-or almost.
They say never again
but it is again”
The Moon Is In Labor
At least she’s pretending to be,
in sisterly solidarity.
It’s not a joke, but the whole
world’s taking it badly. Meanwhile
I sit here pretending to be a flame
in a thrown bottle. I pretend
that curved horns grow out of my ears
when I hear of injustices. And
meanwhile like the faint cigar
lights of the darkened
lounges where world leaders
fraternize, the moon’s light glows
then fades. Her labor proves to be,
well, laborious. Mine was too,
although this poem burst forth
from my brain like a boot
or a god: furious.
Gail Wronsky
“One way to bury
something is to bury it
forever. When I was water
you poured me out
over the dirt.”
