Legs widely splayed, and hair
Is covering the pillow.
What a wonderful pair
Of blue eyes. What a pillar
Of stability. And I enter,
And I climax. What a deja-vue.
Hiding,
Hiding,
Hiding
Hiding an unborn Jew.
My life is now committed
To this hair, the color of corn.
My Jewish par’ amour admitted
That she’d been killed before being born,
As her Grandma’s ovaries went up in flames. –How?
-Like a moth around the gas lamp.
-I heard no one got killed in Dachau.
It was just a labor camp.
She’s a sugar, a honey-and-spice,
But here’s my modest donation:
Her fertilized egg becomes my Ausweis
To the survival of the Jewish nation.