THE INTERROGATION
Two groups, one escaped, one cowered all night by our beds.
I'LL WONDER
ABOUT NEITHER.
The escapes were lost and separated.
I'M THROUGH
WITH MEMORY.
At which conditioning session did they teach you tedium?
On which roof of whose building did you learn indecision?
I'M THROUGH
SORTING AVENUES AND DOORS,
HOUSES, AND DEATH.
Which compound did we flee by night? Which compound did we flee by day?
DON'T ASK ME.
We stood and watched one burn, from one we ran away.
I'M NEATLY FOLDING
THE NIGHTS AND DAYS, NOTES
TO BE FORGOTTEN.
We were diminished. We were not spared. There was no pity.
Neither was our sanctuary. Neither rest.
There were fires in the streets. We stood among the enemy,
At the level of their hands, all those wrists, dead or soon to die.
NO MORE
LETTING MY SURVIVAL
DEPEND ON MEMORY.
There was the forest; it's green volume brought despair.
There was waiting, there was leaving. There was
astonishment too. The astonishment of:
"I thought you died!" "How did you get out?"
And "Little Syl walked right past the guards!"
I GROW
LADEN WITH STORIES,
MY OWN EYELIDS
GROW HEAVY.
Who lead the troops when our C.O. died?
DON'T ASK ME.
Who came along? Who got left behind?
ASK THE ONE IN CHARGE.
Lydecker? Through it all there were no cadences,
and weeping came many years later.
I'M THROUGH WITH MEMORY.
Sometimes a secret smile
even when we were marching.
I'M THROUGH WITH MEMORY.
Can you still see the numbers etched on your neck?