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Henry Israeli
Nightmare Song
I struggle to see over the shoulders of naked
and shivering men, boys, girls, women holding
babies. We turn a corner where bodies sway
from ropes, heads bowed and lolling
as if in prayer, beneath a rusted sky
straining to stay afloat.
It’s the same dream again and again.
Helmeted men without faces swing clubs
at our heads, beat us forward, forward.
They’re feeding the monster Jews,
its mouth a yawning black and toothless hole,
tongue flopping like a dirty wet mattress,
insatiable. Gunshots pierce the shroud
of stifled weeping.
Our hands no longer
our hands.