Should I love you?
You simply take my
And when I tell
people of how you enraptured me
So that my sighs
drew you into my lungs,
You probably think others
envy such depths.
Yes, you made
yourself at home there, so
Please do not tell
your close friend, Death.
He might be jealous
enough to impress,
His fetish being
bodies on a plinth
And having them
carried to cemeteries.
keep you and I a secret;
It’s much better
It snows on ashes
that forests surround, everything gone quiet,
My burning body
breaking its bones in fire long after
A slow, protracted
death in a crowded, gaseous tube,
While praying to be saved,
begging for mercy in vain,
Naked as on the day
of birth, the day of death begun in icy terror.
I did not want to be
swallowed up by the jaws of death,
Even though all my
worldly goods had been taken from me.
We who were almost
frozen, in the end, burned brightly.
I did not volunteer
to be dehumanized, treated as refuse,
something to be disposed of…
To kill people in
the precise fashion in which I was killed
Requires the victim
to be completely dehumanized.
Thus, brutally and
systematically killing them becomes easier.
It was carbon
monoxide our killers used, in case you want to know.
Is it wishful
thinking that I, being dead, can communicate this to you?
strangulating death jammed amid other men!
I am so tired of
living it over and over again.
To you, reader, what
is both shocking and morbid
Is to me, merely
fact oscillating from life into death,
The end of a story,
painful, communal, and horrid.
I want to know the
story of those who killed me and my kind.
I want to know why
onlookers, as I was taken away, did nothing,
Just stood like
statues that did not care for their fellow human being.
I want to know why
they did not object and stop this from happening
To me and the people
like me who died here with me?
I want to know if
they miss my presence among them,
Those not like me,
destined to survive the holocaust,
Or, if they were
happy to see me go because I was different from them.
The answers to my
curiosity, I am sure, are painful.
One is never
exterminated for pleasant reasons.
I never suspected I
had this coming to me;
I did not, to my
knowledge, offend others.
I lived, to the best
of my ability, an upright life.
I was not strictly
pious, but I worshipped God,
And did everything I
believe God asks a person to do,
I followed and loved
them all—Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Moses, and so on.
I loved the one
God, and did not put false gods before Him;
I loved my neighbour
as myself because I loved Yahweh;
I conducted myself
as a Jew who knows there are 613 Mitzvahs to keep
And does his utmost
to keep them.
I loved to go to the
To hear prayers and
Torah in Hebrew;
I felt at home in
the temple of God,
And when I was not
able to be in the synagogue
I missed it and
dreamed of being there.
So how could all
this have happened? Why were we chosen?
A certain level of
homeland depravity meant hatred was always simmering.
I remember Father
sitting me on his lap and telling me that he was beaten
When he was young
simply because, like me, he was a Jew.
boiled over and demanded yet another sacrifice: mine.
Michael Mulvihill, firstname.lastname@example.org, of Dublin, Ireland, wrote BP #89’s
“Drop 2: Help Thy Neighbour” and the featured
Pneumonia” and “Ghost of Chelmno” (+ BP #88’s “The Taxidermist Is Hatching.”; BP
#81’s “Drogol’s Inst.” & “Killing Time”; BP #80’s “Rise”; BP #79’s
the Nosophorous and the Calf of Man”; BP #78’s “Self-Immolation,” BP #77’s
“Lupine Savagery”; BP #76’s “The Watchers”; BP #68’s“The Toasters’ Tragedy”
“Ziggy’s Afterlife Analysis”; “Homeless” & “Why the Hell Siberia?” for BP
#67; was featured author for BP #65’s “Ethagorian
Evidence (Parts 1 & 2)” & “Uninsured Assurance”; VAMPIRE HORDE, Ch.1…
for BP #63; BP #61’s poems, A Love Story
Beautiful, Capitalism’s Modern
Architecture of Love, Red Brick, The Securocrats, and Toxic
Addiction; the poems, “Fatigued,” “O Mother,”
& “Spike-Inverted Hearts” for BP #58; “The Cleaner and the Collector” &
all 6 BP #56 poems; BP #50’s “The Soul Scrubber” and as featured
vampire poet with
A Vampire’s Dilemma: Love, Becoming a
Vampire, Vampire Insomnia, and Vampiric
War in The Kodori Valley; wrote
BP #49’s poems—I, the Vampire, The
Reluctant Vampire of Tbilisi, Vampire Observations, and Vampire Psychoanalysis). The 30ish author published a short story,
“Ethagoria Nebsonia,” in BP in ‘98 and had a poem, “The Bombing,” in The Kingdom
News about a domestic tragedy in
Ireland. He has two 2007 poetry books out with Exposure Publishing: Searching
for Love Central and The Genesis and Anatomy of Love, and has
written the horror novels, DIABOLIS OF DUBLIN & SIBERIAN HELLHOLE.