Poem for Holocaust Memorial Day


Home Care

She takes a while to answer, walking frame
distorted through striated glass.

‘Who is it?’ And you can hear the accent
of an Austrian girl, shipped to London as a child.

In the living room, Parker Knoll chair,
quiz books, biscuit stocks,

and the Viennese family
who stayed behind.

Elegantly dressed, unsmiling
in black and white;

Mutter, Vater, Schwester, Bruder.

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