MEET ME AT THE HOLOCAUST

It has taken a year of months
But now I can understand why Nero fiddled
as Rome burned
and fell around him.

I keep having dreams of this and you.
your mixed in with the muddy faces
in all those places their billowing smoke-stacks
razor-wire and fresh snowfall.

As we sit at our table
in the front row
porcelain hands surround us
and leave the snow covered ground
like frightened doves.

Pointing to us to the stars
to the only color here
coming from the single rose
that is our centerpiece.

Whispering in your ear I wonder how
love happens here in this world
engulfed by the fire
of black and white.

Where we hold the chalky hands of time
comfort them
to the sound of
machine-guns and working furnaces.

So meet me there
as in my dreams
at the Holocaust
the ruble of our humanity.

Wear your shining silver
and that black dinner dress
the sleeveless, I'll wear my best
party tux
a carnation on the collar

And we will listen for the violin
as we live off color
bleeding
from the center of our table.