The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat.
The fat
Sacrifices its opacity. . . .
A window, holy gold.
The fire makes it precious,
The same fire
Melting the tallow heretics,
Ousting the Jews.
Their thick palls float
Over the cicatrix of Poland, burnt-out
Germany.
They do not die.
Grey birds obsess my heart,
Mouth-ash, ash of eye.
They settle. On the high
Precipice
That emptied one man into space
The ovens glowed like heavens, incandescent.
It is a heart,
This holocaust I walk in,
O golden child the world will kill and eat.
omg this poem is REALLY good! i love it to death! im doing the holocaust right now in English..
This poem was interesting. It had much meaning, at least to me. I felt the pain of the Holocaust. This should be read by people so they can feel the way i felt, when i read this poem.
i love this poems it was awesome, it made me have a tear in my eye, i am very intrested in the holicault stuff and i have done so many projects and i am sooo happy that someone besides me likes the same thing i do way to go.
This poem was good ans bad at the same time but she was a very good poet she just needed a little more love i think then she would have been fine
he was rude, likely because he doesn’t get it. whatever, to each his own. if one is to trash or even compliemtn something, they should state a reason for their decision.
Joe is very rude the poem is lovely