Akko: The Memory of the Prisoners of the Underground
by Steven Joyce
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Like a Chihuly glass
chandelier these lives
drawn and pressed in the heat
of political fury
the artisans of this work
neither Brits nor Jews
Etzel and Lechi fighters
spun like glass
this heroism
breaks in the dark room
in the unrecorded moments
smooth faces twitch and already bury
their heads into a soft bosom
hemp never meant for this work
its braid strong and thick
yet like water able to follow
the pulse of life to unthinkable finality
dry terror these kids
already the ghosts of Karney Hitin
deepen the shadow on the gallows
hanged hanged hanged
these young men with clear skin
crusaders caught again in Akko
they take
nice pictures
a fraternity stunt
gone wrong
that ended
badly
Mordechai, Yechiel,
Dov, Eliezer
good boys spun
by heat and fire and legend
into things of frozen light.
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