Issue 119, Summer 1991
Roots in the Air
In the air, that’s where your roots are,
over there, in the air.
—Where to, Doctor? Cemetery?
—Yes, my friend, making my grave rounds. Our mother’s there,
my brother too, and the wife’s niece, buried last year,
only seventeen, leukemia, it seems. And you, sir?
—Home. The days are getting shorter,
I like to stay home now.
—You’ve visited your graves already?
—I have no graves. My wife deserted me a long time ago,
you know, my sons are alive, but far away,
in Canada, yes, Canada. . . . I have no graves. . . .
—But what about your mother, your father, brothers,
grandparents, where are they buried?
—Over there, in the air over Auschwitz,
they’re buried in the air.