by the third floor
the weight of history
had become too much
that you wanted to
release it to the sky
by the fourth
my sister still hadn’t
enough of rolling
in its ashes
hearing the moans
by the fifth there
was nothing to see
but the blue cinder terror
so we all took the elevator
to the basement to reset
eat lunch among the relics
and walk the street casually
to the next next-door Holocaust
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