• I watch the dust float
    I watch the quick motion of my mother's hand
    I watch the peels fly away from the potato which she peels
    I watch the dust float

    I see my sister skipping in the street
    Gone, in a flash, like she was never there
    I see my brother walking down the road
    Gone, again, wishing I was with them

    My mother tells me that people hate us
    My dad tells me that people want to kill us
    My uncle tells me we are Jews.
    My aunt hushes him.

    I sit in the graveyard
    By the cold wet stones
    I hear footsteps.
    I hear a trigger being pulled.
    I hear nothing.
    Forever.