Man With The Number Poem by Day Williams

A crescent moon shone in the sky
As I passed by a darkened alley;
A man surprised me from the shadows,
Clutched my collar and said to me:

"Nazis made lamps of human skin
And the black widows eat their mates,
The generals and admirals
March through corridors of hate

That stink like bodies decomposed,
While perjurers will take the stand
In courts that benefit the rich
And say our basic rights are banned.

Pneumonia, cancer, viruses,
The toxic wastes, tumors in brains,
Nuclear missiles by the thousands,
Husbands who beat their wives with canes.

Ignorance and meanness, they boil
And flow like lava in the night:
They infiltrate the unaware
And leave the victims lost in fright."

I shook loose of him and spotted
The number tattooed on his arm;
And no more did I wonder why
The world to him has held such harm.