INTO THE VISTULA

Into the Vistula,
the remains of fascism
mirrors,uniforms, combs
the jut in the river
of buried breaths,
the once soft dreams
mouths turning to pray
for survival
stars crossing over
the still lungs, ribs,skins
a time of relapse
and so many tombstones
an earth mad at itself
hoping for the arrival
of atoning liberation.