BEAUTY

He entered the sty, and she cringed. She’d always
Remember him, a beast with black hair
And blue eyes, a young German, and the sound
Of screeching ducks and gunshots in the barnyard
Where treacherous neighbors had gossiped
Away the good frightened family who’d stashed her
And hers like livestock with souls, butchered then
Or driven off in a truck. Comprehending
Her face, his rifle still trained, he lowered
His stare to the straw laced mud. He left,
 
And with this beautiful act became like a pig
That had swallowed a diamond: whoever
Slit him open would wonder where it came from.
She knew what she rarely said afterwards,
That he looked like a boy she could have liked,
Like the tall coachman who let her ride
With the crates once on his flat wagon
Or the rabbi’s son she’d daydreamed kissing
In the lilacs behind the gymnasium, a real prince
At whom she could never so much as smile
Without having her decency questioned…
 
And so the curse is lifted, the one
Who sprayed their blood in the usual ritual
All over the rotted stoop hasn’t urged them
To kneel in his grunting, accurate tongue
Because he’s in here with her and in love,
Transformed by it, if only for an instant.

(First appeared in Ploughshares)