The woman who rides a silver unicycle
Across the high wire
Smiles tensely
As if at silence--
The long fall without a net--
Wiping away sweat
She stops the cycle
Halfway across the wire
And grasping the seat with both hands
Forcing her body upwards
She balances on her head
Then extends her arms and hands outward
The cycle's single tire
Bearing all her weight
Shaking slightly
As she comes down
To her sitting position
Straightening her hair.
Something Is Happening
Something quiet as leaves
Slowly falling to the earth
Is happening to us
Our arms around each other
Tell stories of times
Words shot through the air
And made us bleed
But we survived
Surrounded by the gates
Of our clasped hands
And the doors of our arms
Why I Write About the Holocaust
When I was a boy I lived among people
Who wore the SS insignia
Branded on their arms,
And I felt the presence
Of those who disappeared
In the flaming dark;
Could feel their shame as they
Stood naked in gas chambers
Pounding against walls--
Reduced to integers in
A mad equation for murder.
Kneeling to the earth, I blotted
Out my shadow with my body
And felt darkness drawing me down
Because mankind's machinations
Meant nothing to me now.
As I walked among survivors
I saw smoke rise in their sad eyes;
I tasted the bitter herbs of their memories;
I heard their silent screams.
From Something Is Happening, Lewiston, NY: Mellon Poetry Press. 1991
"Why I Write About The Holocaust" also appears in Blood To Remember: American Poets on The Holocaust,
Texas University Press. 1991 (Editor: Charles Fishman)
all poems © 1991 Gary Pacernick,
