standing tall
faithfully unblinking
on your weightless bones
in a pale studio
wearing a pastel dress
with a frilly collar
your decorous sweetness
glided in and out of the room
you looked no different
from the bourgeois
girls of Berlin
your nose bore no
trace of Jewishness
and yet you could not
hide the temperament
of Auschwitz crowding
your eyes
the ghost of your past
is decadently untranslated
its imploding roar
raced in my ears...
Blossom and snow
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