She wondered if he
Were still alive, that
German soldier she’d
Seen shoot the Jewish

Girl in her dark-haired
Head; the way he just
Casually pointed
And pulled the trigger;

And for a brief still
Moment of time they
Were connected by
The act he’d just done

And her standing there
Having witnessed it;
An exchanged of eyes,
Nothing more; as if

He thought, what’s one Jew
More or less, and then
Moved on, sparing her
The same fate; whether

He thought about that
Act amongst others;
Their exchange of eyes;
The dead girl, her head

Part blown away; or
If he had died some
Time ago, with that
Stark image ringing

Around his mind like
A never ending
Echo. She didn’t
Know; it was just her

Speculation, that
Maybe, when he heaved
His daughter on his
Lap years later, he

Thought of that young girl,
Limp and lifeless, spread
Out like a rag doll
Before him, with that

Flow of blood spreading
Away from the soft
Remains of her head.