She read a book of poems
Tonight
At Eleven P.M.
About the Holocaust
Always glad there was
Not German blood
In her veins
Because of Hitler
And it was not until
All the poems were read
She realized the poetry
Was not real at all
But only
Someones imaginations
Of how it must have been
For those who died
Mercilessly
Without even believing
There could be a hell
Where Adolf burns forever
His flesh and bone
Never turning to ashes
As the ashes of the Jews
Blew away in the air once.
She thinks of sending a letter
To her Jewish friend
Who of all her Facebook friends
Moved her the most somehow
Towards his spirit
A United States away
With a "safe" life perhaps
Not writing
From a computer room floor
With four blankets under her
Four blankets over her
By the light of a flash light
As she cannot sleep
As usual until the dark of
Early morning comes cold
With her kitties outside
Callee on the couch snoring
She wonders if her Noah friend
Would make her get up
Into a warm bed to hold on to her
Place his face in her long hair
Rub his beard on her old back
Like a prayer for her
As she misses him
Enough to cry
While not crying for many days.
She thinks of sending
One of her beautiful pins
To his mother
One of her favorite ones
That is light blue
She paid $45 for it
In the past
When she had the money
To buy old costume jewelry
And still pay the electric bill
At the same time
That was before
She could become homeless
Even though she serves as
A nurse again
It has come too late
And sometimes money for which
They cannot wait
Walks too slow to her hands
She's sorry if she's foolish
Thinking he is a real friend
Too young to be his mother
Too old to be his lover
It hurts
So she writes letter to him
Anyway that make no good sense.
She doesn't want to live in
Her kids basement
As he doesn't really like
Living in his parent basement
When family is all we have to
Save us, the in-betweenies
Struggling to survive
A life alone
Even though she has "patients"
Now and tomorrow is her
Tenth grandbabies first birthday
She has no money for an
Expensive present for the the little guy
Who won't care anyway
If it's only some cheap
Thing from China bought at
The Dollar Store
As babies don't care
Exploring pans in cabinets
And bags of pop cans
Are more fun than any toy
could ever be
So she'll owe Owen a
Better gift later
And he'll be fine with it.
She has peace and prosperity
In her death camp of life
Blessings in the right amount
Of antidepressants
Blessings in a nursing license
A car that runs and hope
And faith in her friend to find
Peace
The peace in an old flannel
Nightgown, hair unbraided
Tears that stopped falling
With a friend in mind
She can write a poem letter
To hoping he won't see her as
Some crazy old hag
In some dead tiny town
Far way with Hitler coming
To purge the world of her
Her poetry, roses, animals
Cold baths, drives by wheat growing
As there will be no death for her
She has a friend to write to.
