Blank

in a blank notebook

writing the tale of her life

with vanishing ink

Holiday

first month of the year

two servants on holiday

dreaming of their work

first night of the year

dreaming of Dachau’s ovens

and their plumes of smoke

for the New Year’s feast

ladling from a red tureen

sweet potato soup

on a windy night

slipping into bed with me

the sounds of silence

the same old story

here today, gone tomorrow—

the cherry blossoms

three children at play

kicking a ball in the street

till the supper call