15 Poems by Martin Hershkovits, a 2G in Israel
contact: hmartin@bezeqint.net

My cousin Haim Stern returned to Serednye after the War,
took the key from the neighbor,
returning with a shoebox under his arm.
He strode toward the tree grove.
The bonfire in the grove burnt the photographs well.
As he stood over the curling pictures, prodding them deeper into the flames,
the nitrate smoke stung his eyes.
He sat in the clearing till the embers died down, now freed,
left for America,
his spare set of shoes now in the shoebox…

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