PET SHOPS Poem by Ewa Lipska
PET SHOPS
Pet shops.
The internment camp
from my childhood.
Guinea pigs. Parrots. Canaries.
The sickly scent of captivity.
Sawdust of events.
At home I spat out depression.
Antigone the cat didn't show up any more.
A mousetrap from Verdun
and then all the way to Auschwitz.
I didn't know how it would end
when I signed up for life.
A volunteer.
Friday, October 5, 2018
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2/8/2026 4:51:19 AM # 1.0.0
