Dresden 1944 - A Soldier's Bath
The soap floated
In his old, tin bath,
And he knew
There was something,
Very,
Wrong.
Soap doesn't float.
But in this war
Of want,
You take anything you can get,
Anything they can give you.
And this week,
They finally gave us,
Some soap.
So civilised,
So clean.
Made from
Boiling bodies,
Like chickens,
For soup.
Skimming
The risen fat,
To savour the broth,
And using the fat,
To make soap,
For the masses,
From the carcasses
Of my people.
Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 771 times
Written on 2006-04-08 at 15:53
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