|
John Guzlowski USA
Poems from
Third Winter
of War: Buchenwald,
Finishing Line Press:
XIX.
Working among the bricks, lifting
them in his hands and throwing them
into the wooden cart behind him,
his body first feels hot and then
cold with sickness and the snow.
He fears his bones will freeze and crack
the way the limbs of a tree will crack
when winter is so hard it can kill
a dog, and even kill a man.
©
Copyright 2009,
John Guzlowski. |