Remnants of my Uncle Jacob’s finer days

when, with my father and I trailing behind

we would make off to Wannsee,

spend the afternoon poking its Surface

with lines to which I hooked squirmy insects

meeting their soggy fate

in the gaping mouths of carp

 

Uncle Jacob had shown me how to fasten

the fleshy beasts, he used to say:

“With your small hands you should out-fasten

me very quickly!”, I never did.

Uncle Jacob had the largest palms I’d ever seen,

his fingers in comparison were thin and very long,

I imagined it was those spindly fingers

which fastened diamonds so nicely,

the large palm a secure surface

to hold them, assess their brilliance

without letting them drop into the dust

of precious metal and wood powder

 

He was such a Giant

Nothing worried him,

half his size, my Father knew better

the Black and Silver Cross

appearing Everywhere

foreshadowed an Evil

Never before Seen

Uncle Jacob wouldn’t listen, I did,

even the Trees seemed menacing

the Carp too hungry, the Water too green,

 

What would become of us, Where should we go?