He has an appointment
with the Gestapo. He,
a Polish Jew, owner
of a brewery, husband,
father of two.
It is December,
nineteen-forty-two.
Before he leaves
the house, he leaves
his good wool coat,
cashmere, new,
for a friend,
though it is Lublin
winter, ice
and cold.
When they meet,
they strip him
of the brewery,
shoot him
in the head.
His coat remains
to warm the friend.
Published in Bloodroot Literary Magazine, 2009
Nominated for Pushcart Prize