Ode to a Skin Head

Hitler is your hero
You say, ‘there
were no death camps’
beating blindly
defenseless youths
with clubs
your idea of sport

You find new ways
to express
your fascination
with death and blood,
that creamy substance,

You never imagine
that your own
might be spilled

So you are surprised
by the policeman
with his club
in the air
unaware its
your skull
he’s going to shatter

leaving you like
a heap of bones
bald in Dachau

Curled fetal on
Stone cold cement
Others walk over you

Purgatory is a hard place
to begin again
to retrace memory
in steel-toed boots
But it’s better than the
crematorium

From here
you have a
view from below

Looking up now
the world looks
much different
changed

The skyscrapers
seem like smoke stacks

Something is burning
You’re glad it’s not you-
not yet

There’s still time

So the itch to run
to undo all you’ve
done

Suck back the poison
of your words
Repent to the dead

Burns deep
in your core

Struggling to find feet
and voice

Wounded,
Shackled in cuffs
Pushed into
the black car
Sirens blaring

Tattooed and
ready for processing
Will you go left or right?
To life or death?

Head down
Prison,
You realize is
a grace

You’ve been
boondoggled.
You’ve been
working your whole life
for a space
a room
an identity
‘Arbeit Macht Frei’
But work doesn’t set
you free.
Truth does.