Sixteen...
A piece fell into our wagon
I didn't move
Not strong enough
Many violent men
An old man
Hand held to his heart
A blow to his chest?
No
A hidden piece of bread
With lightning speed
He brings it to his mouth
Eyes light up
A smile illuminates the ashen face
But only for a moment
A shadow is throw over him
He cries out, stunned
"Don't you recognize me?
Your killing your father"
Only sixteen...
He collapsed
A small piece of crust
Clutched in his fist
He tries to raise it to his mouth
But the shadow is once again thrown over him
Death
Searched by his son
The crust is taken
The son startes to devour it
Shadows are thrown over him
Two bodies now
Lying dead upon the floor
Only sixteen...
3 comments:
Ok so for those of you that have never heard of "Night" it's a memoir about the Holocaust. A found poem (if you don't know what that is) is a poem where you use sentances from the book and put them into poetry form, cutting some words out, and putting some in.
Oh! I was wondering what that meant. See my comment on the CWP blog too.
this is really good noodle! i read night, and you captured it all perfectly.
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