Featured: After the Nazis

Gavin Adair

 

She sifts through the dirt. Again. This time the hole has squared corners

and the sides are a cool and loamy clay. It is like a small chip

in the earth, just a speck. Who could think there has ever been a cut here?

Who could think there has never been a cut here?

 

Who could think a nick has not been made here and flesh removed? She sifts

thought the soil, her hands come up with bits of something – enamel covered

in decades of dirt. You can see they’re forever stained once it is brushed away.

Here, she says, holding them out in her palm.

 

Can you see the difference? This one is shark, you can tell by the point. This one

is a child’s, chipped and broken. You can tell

by the jagged edge.

 

 

G AdairIn September 2014 Gavin Adair decamped for Shanghai after eleven years in Brooklyn. “After the Nazis” is from an ongoing sequence of poems based on other works, acts, or events. This is the third poem in the sequence to see publication.