When they came, they took the house. They let me and my sisters live in the basement. My father died of hunger. (Sasha, 1942)
Tag Archives: Spring 2009 Poetry
7 years ago there were no houses
A hornet, the kind that stings,
rests three boards away
On a naked concrete floor…
I’m mad at the world,
A world gone mad for money.
The two rotund, none smoking, healthy middle aged ladies sit in their splashing pool get suntanned and wet
Look at the asp on that woman!
It’s a collection now. Three shelves worth.
I remember most of them when they were alive.
In my more maudlin moments
I picture myself as a young