Barcode Poem by Joanna Karine Hoffman

I am a barcode.
7491365
7491365
7491365

I turn my head to the side and exhale 856 times.

I've calculated the exact amount of breaths it takes
for the screaming sepia
to drip from my skull
leaving only the soft hum
of the AC
and the epileptic rattling
of my shaken brain.

"Mrs Goldman, are you all right? "

7491365
7491365

I know the mean well,
here in this home for the aged,
but they will never understand....

I have no language now...

Each word comes out ink-blotted....
a Charlie Brown wail.....

"Mrs Goldman, are you all right? "

7491365

Before the war, I was Sara Goldman....
Danced to jazz in my sister's basement....
fell in love with the curve of my husband's neck....
just like anybody else

When the Nazi's took him away, I used words like "Miserable", "Starving" -said that my world had ended.
And when they came back to take me, all I could do was insert
my fist into my mouth as they loaded us all onto the train car....

My pathetic skin flashing frantic SOS's to the barren soil as we passed.

"Here is your number"

7491365
7491365
7491365

When you die, that's all that will be left behind! "

"Your hair, bagged and sold for $6.99
Your skin stretched into a lampshade for $10.99
Your fillings melted down
Your organs given to the wounded soldiers...
Your body - a medical experiment for 'Doctors' wanting to quantify pain"

"Tell me what I'm worth! "

7491365

"Tell me who I am"

7491365

"Where is my sister!
Where is my Mother! "
Where am I?
Where....."

When the Russians came to liberate the camps I cried....
And not out of joy.....

How do you go back to a world you've lost the map to?

How do you explain to an employer the gaps in your resume from 1938 to 1945?

How do you ever ride a train again when every passing car carries a thousand Sara Goldmans....on their way to be burnt in an oven or gassed in a shower....

I am not Sara Goldman....

I'm 7491365! ! ! !

Tell me what's real
and tell me what's over....

Tell me what's history
and what keeps me.....

7491365

This morning the nurse said to me...

"Mrs Goldman, you must have been so smart to have gotten out of there alive"

I had no words to tell her.....

There is no "smart" here.....

Survival.....is not a skill, it's a lottery.....

And what makes you think I did?

What makes you think I did.....