Chocolates from Dresden
For Ruth
Mutti’s hand-made chocolates –
Parcels from home.
In secret we unwrapped them,
Popped them in our mouths. Cautiously
Savoured their dissolve.
Then fingers to lips, both conjurer and stooge,
Drew from within ourselves earrings, chains,
Rings, unmounted stones,
And joined other Jews on Italian streets
To sell them for food.
I don’t eat chocolates now,
I’ve lost the taste.
And the older I get
The more problematic they grow.
This one, for instance,
Contains a bicycle.
These – a house in a garden,
A cluster of friends.
And this smooth round one,
That has to be a soft-centre
You’d think would be safe,
Is filled with silence.
Too much for one mouth.
Page(s) 24
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