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Foxhole

I never understood
Why you came to me that night.
I had already crawled
Into the foxhole that
Would serve us later
As my grave.

But you came anyway,
Crossing the blasted landscape
Of our battlefield, cutting the wires
To stand over me
Silent and glowering.

Was it hatred or love
That drove you then--
To wrap me in
So raw an embrace,
Pierce me and fill me
With your bitterness?

(Can there be such a thing
As a compassionate Nazi
Because he soothes
The terrified Jew, dying
On the end of his bayonet?)

How odd that you
Would slay me with one hand
While attempting to
Save me with the other--
And either way
You won.

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