On the children who died of overeating after being liberated from the concentration camps

May 27, 2008
They writhe like maggots
in the heat of late summer,
the time when women's bellies
begin to swell and thrum with child.
They writhe in dirt
too-lately plowed by Russian heels;
it is the reaping season now.
They writhe, clutching loaves of bread
like baby brothers -
emissaries from far-off housewife hands;
and hardtack.
They writhe, bloated like balloons
that have no helium
to let them fly,
uttering sounds that were,
ten minutes past,
a prayer:
too full! too much! no more!
To dust.

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