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j.l. feinstein

cw: holocaust poem

by posted in verse on permalink


Remember, second-cousin
the summer when I came to visit,
when we were both fifteen?

We used to watch commuters at the bus stop,
while the world went by, as we held hands
and blushed together…

Or when we stole candy from the corner store—
that red-faced bourgeois
almost caught us, but we were too fast.

Remember how one week my grandpa came,
thick and heavy like his glasses, he smelled
of pipe tobacco and eau-de-cologne.

He taught us about galaxies, and light
diffraction, and he told us stories
of Einstein’s violin.

Never forget that summer, stolen
chocolate and kisses, under a hot sun…

Remember me! Though I was never born,
and Grandpa never lived to smoke
and shave and use eau-de-cologne.