<\/p>\n
She still believes in love<\/p>\n
for she is young<\/p>\n
and too, carries the white<\/p>\n
all women must:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Never having asked<\/p>\n
How the rabbit got in the hat.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Her stories all end<\/p>\n
in happily ever after<\/p>\n
and the only pain she knows<\/p>\n
comes in the remembrance<\/p>\n
of once upon a time<\/p>\n
the weeds of her imagination.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And I<\/p>\n
always calling<\/p>\n
a spade a spade<\/p>\n
(because I\u2019m afraid),<\/p>\n
will not tell her<\/p>\n
about the bodies<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve carried<\/p>\n
stuffed in bags,<\/p>\n
their eyes reminding me<\/p>\n
of the marbles<\/p>\n
as a youngster<\/p>\n
I once desired and thumbed,<\/p>\n
their stiff limbs<\/p>\n
tangled like<\/p>\n
gathered forest undergrowith<\/p>\n
waiting for the match.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I will not tell her<\/p>\n
how the sound<\/p>\n
of a smashed infant\u2019s skull<\/p>\n
cracks in much the same way<\/p>\n
as her knuckles do<\/p>\n
and that the smell<\/p>\n
of burnt flesh<\/p>\n
can too be perfume.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
No, not tonight anyways.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Her unwrinkled skin<\/p>\n
a canvas yet painted<\/p>\n
by these hands so human<\/p>\n
they\u2019ve forgotten<\/p>\n
how many they\u2019ve hung<\/p>\n
condemned or caressed.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I will let this grass<\/p>\n
always believe it will<\/p>\n
be green<\/p>\n
and let her eyes light<\/p>\n
fires to lead me away<\/p>\n
from myself.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Atleast for tonight.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I stuff the rabbits<\/p>\n
back into my hat<\/p>\n
and try to smooth<\/p>\n
my spoilt skin<\/p>\n
with this tongue<\/p>\n
that is always<\/p>\n
in search of soup.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Living can\u2019t wait.<\/p>\n
There are always tomorrows for the truth.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
She still believes in love for she is young and too, carries the white all women must: Never having asked How the rabbit got in the hat. Her stories all end in happily ever after and the only pain she knows comes in the remembrance of once upon a time the weeds of her imagination. … Continue reading For my Young Lover between Berlin and Birkenau<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[10],"class_list":["post-236","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-holocaust"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/236","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=236"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/236\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":378,"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/236\/revisions\/378"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=236"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=236"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ddeubel.me\/poetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=236"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}