Bread

Izi Charik

1925

My steps are set down stiffly
on tired, empty paths.
This morning a little town of Jews
called me “Anti-Semite!”
All of them in wrinkles and in rags
out there pointing at me:
“Him! That guy! We know him—and his parents!
He’s estranged from us completely!
“You feel like going up to him and saying
‘Listen, buddy, there’s such blight
If you…
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