September 1, 2007
I sit here, A death machine, Black and daunting. Like the shadow of a crow. Two men Not done with their life, And a boy Just starting his, Are beckoned to me by the Kapo, By the ruthless killer. His cold eyes watch meÉ When the chairs are tipped, Two dead men swing From my stretched ropes. But the boy, Too light in his youth, Dangles between life And death, Unsure. And then the prisoners are marched past me, Staring into the eyes of the dead and undead They too, Unsure. (This was written in response to Elie Wiesel's Night.)

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