Issue 125, Winter 1992
When the man can’t sleep, he builds
a matchstick replica of Auschwitz
in his basement, working from memory.
A child’s china tea set has service
for six small mouths. Sitting cross-legged
on the floor, the girls pretend to sip from empty cups.
From the airplane, the farm is a square;
the hearse is a box filled with people
whose tears are too tiny even to glisten.