Tale of Cup and Saucer
How did this man with teeth of ochre
vying for premature emancipation
from sunken scorched cheeks
Tell his time of steeping, hellish limbo
later mistaken for some consecration?
Did he place the dainty cup with saucer
upon a lace bound table like crosses station
with gruff of fine motor and tobacco's reek?
Yell to my grandfather, oldest son, go:
’get your wife, place it among rations!’
And then ‘aspetta! Wait, look here!'
etched beneath bone in aching precision-
swastika. Lore lost by lips that still seek.
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