John Henderson (jhender705@aol.com) teaches English in Indiana and has published work in little magazines such as Oprphic Lute, Manna and others.





Hitler Love


It's five-thirty and 1944 at Auswitz.
I stand like a Jew
starving and sunken-eyed
caged in on four sides
by the barbed wire
of your imagined smile.
Pearly-white
I can see your grin
like an ivory-covered handle of a Gestapo pistol
each word a bullet.
It's now sunset
and I stand naked
revealing my scars and wounds.
my ribs are ladder rungs
to the brain.
I know the tread in the hall
straight-armed
goosestepping.
You walk into the bedroom
with your leather-gloved fingers
and prod me on the shoulder.
I stand pretending not to notice.
But, again you push.
I turn and you say,
"I'm home dear."



John Henderson

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