ISSUE 6

Anne Babson

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Unindicted Coconspirator Lyric 

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My Freshman history class
Required viewing Night and Fog.
Mid-film, I scrambled outside,
           Nauseous, sobbing, having wailed
           At piles of gold teeth extracted
           By pilers, of hair snipped from

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The new corpses to stuff in
Pillows. The rest stayed and watched.
I staggered toward the nurse’s 
           Office – Then, they had nurses.
           I sobbed. I couldn’t inhale,
           Couldn’t turn the office knob.

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This was before mass shootings,
Anti-vaxxers, fentanyl.
Why was I running, she asked,
           Opening the door, seating me,
           Was I in pain? Why the tears?
           I told her I saw the camps,

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The old ones, the ones to come.
She told me to forget it.
Nothing was wrong here, nothing.
           “But we could do that here, too!”
           I howled out, “When I’m your age,
           It could happen here – again!”

 

“Hon, put it out of your mind!
That was years ago, not now!
Don’t cry about it today!
           That’s all over, sweetie pie!”
           The bus I take to work now
           Passes her house. She is spry

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For her age, mows her own lawn.
I see one of their red flags
Draped over her balcony.