Liebling By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
"Schatz."
Every day, the whisper that woke her
On her threadbare pallet.
A breath of the winter air, sucked
Through greedy, chapped lips,
Staring up into his eyes,
As brittle as the branches that
Hung over the yard.
"Up,"
One of the few words of
English that he knew.
She rose and stretched, not too
Luxuriously, as she was
Cramped in on all sides by
Those too weak to walk.
"Nein, hasi," he admonished her,
Every time she set her bag
Down to take a breath.
"Nein."
She batted his words away like
They were pollen,
A color she hardly remembered.
She worked all day, outside in
The chill and the bitter wind, then
Inside in the heat and the thickness of
The stale and leathered air.
He accompanied her everywhere,
A dog on her heels, a dog with a gun
That lay crosswise in his hands,
Always with a finger on the trigger.
"Mein schatz," he would say,
In a quiet voice,
As she wriggled into her blanket
Underneath the forbidding October moon.
She just stared at him, uncomprehendingly,
And he would sigh as though he carried
The weight of the world on his shoulders.
An irony, considering
She carried stones all day and
He held only a gun.
He would straighten then,
Staring down at her with all
The authority of an emperor.
Then abruptly he would crumple
In on himself
And turn away, and
She would fall asleep to
The sound of his boots as he
Crunched away from her
On the rubble.
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