Waiting for her cattlecar
she glances at her seamless bra.
Laughing at such fancy wear,
she was headed for the snow.

She steps aboard relentlessly
that long train heading senselessly
toward a location cloaked in mystery
there's blood footprints in the snow.

Staring at the boy across
leaning against his father's boss
straining for that breath he lost
he'll be the first dead in the snow.

Arriving there at (German word)
they're herded off with guns and swords
and told that they must make a choice,
she knew she'd choose the snow.

Aiming for something sweet
they shot them before they moved their feet
that was May of 1943
she watched and waited for the snow.

For lust they grabbed,
they choked and stabbed,
but her soul they could never have
as they raped her in the snow.

Plumes of smoke belay
secret messages written in the evening grey,
she was just "buried" beneath some hay
her body rotting in the snow.

10/25/2012