The Au$trian Jewe$$ Addre$$e$ Her Tubby Hubby in her Heap of a $hop on Main $treet in Titu$ville in the 1960$ Far Away from Auc$hwitz But Not
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The unexamined lifele$$ne$$ i$ not worth living. ~ Socrates
She snaps the dollar bill. She hopes that it
Is two, but, then, it never is. Her eye
Is blank as empty bank accounts. Some spit
Is at the corner of her lips. A sigh
(A silent one) is all that she can make.
Her shop is jungled high with jumbled stuff
That hasn’t sold for years. A little shake
Of Forties hairstyle isn’t quite enough
To save her soul. She snaps another bill.
She thinks of concentration camps that they
(These two then slim) avoided barely. Still,
They are alive, not turned to soap bars, gray.
“You coot’ve been a bar of soap!” she sneers
To him. (“Eleven,” silent worker jeers.)
This sonnet only reports the facts. It does not purport to say anything general about anyone at all.
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