Khor Virap
Michael E. Stone
Khor Virap on a hill’s shoulder, not even reaching up to near-far Ararat’s ankles. Its wall and dome etched out.
Square gravestones scattered at its foot, like so many children’s blocks,
A boy sells doves, (turtle doves?).
Ice cream and Coca Cola by Gregory’s vaulted pit, wall engrooved by ages’ reverent kiss.
Genocide and Holocaust
Michael E. Stone
Genocide’s a hard word, killing a people holocaust too, whole burnt offering.
senseless, Satanic, bringing him in does not soften what’s done
to outgroup by ingroup in gas chamber in desert march transfer and transport ‘work makes free.’
We remain as brands from fire, fate’s favoured, guilty for living.