Marching Like Penguins
Marching like penguins, here come the SS men,
Dressed for business, catching trains, their eyes ahead,
Murder to be made, and reputations, then
Careers will burgeon if their clients have been properly bled.
The crimson puddles of the blood on ice
Hold no more interest for us at the penguins’ feet
Than crushed leaves under boots, till this unbid advice
Destroys their sanguine march, a different drummer’s driving beat:
We are the writers, we the victims’ voice!
We suffer as we write for every word is pain,
Though no catharsis brings the world a paid invoice,
We’re stripping off your suits of evil – you mop up the stain.
Alas the writers - writing fast for us
Before we die - our voices, memories and minds,
Will hang themselves before the haunting, creeping pus
Invades their blood and mercifully God pulls down the blinds.
After a Primo Levi talk by Alvin Rosenfeld of Indiana U at UCLA last night.