For a man in a concentration camp
Any move is the wrong move,
Twisting tightens the bonds
and strangles flesh.
For a man in a concentration camp
Any desire is wrong desire,
Yearning revealed bares skin
for piercing.
For a man in a concentration camp
Any thought is wrong thought,
A flight, a train, a wondering, caught
and put back.
For a man in a concentration camp
Amongst friends of mud and chain,
Horizon is a memory, present only
As a trick of the light.