They showed me
gold teeth with fillings
fashioned into jewelry
and a box of shoes
the dead left behind—
the Jew-mothers running
for their children, breaking mouths
on concrete, tripped by men
scowling something dark
and perhaps unsure at the corners
of their smiles.
The brown hair,
brown eyes,
Jesus-colored skin rotten
with opaque sin, the bruise
of inferior blood.
A tour guide pulled me aside,
put her lips to my ear, whispered,
“You would have been safe,
don’t worry. You’re blonde
with the bluest eyes.
He would’ve liked you.”
Yes, but for my sex
and sexuality:
the perfect faggot,
too young to die
in the Holocaust. 

(Source: inchesgiven)