When we arrive at
Auschwitz
the gates are opened wide
to receive us.
Above us there is a sign that reads:
ARBEIT MACHT FREI.
WORK SETS YOU FREE.
I wonder how that could be true.
All we have done is work,
and still …
There is a man
handpicking people.
Twins.
Anyone cross-eyed.
Anyone with a cleft palate.
“That’s Mengele,”
I hear someone say.
“They call him the Angel of Death.
He’s picking people for experiments.”
“You,” Mengele says to a boy with a clubfoot.
We watch as he limps off to the right to join a group there.
I stand to the left with my team.
We stare across at each other.
We are silently asking the question,
Do we want to be where you are?
We don’t know.
Neither side is sure which side we want to be on.