VII
On a seat in the subway, staring out of the window at
the noisy darkness, why are you sad?
You are not a Hebrew:
you would have no trouble getting a job
(even a Hebrew would be glad to hire you)
with your blond hair, blue eyes,
straight nose and square chin.
Why, you might be a Viking just jumped from his ship
without helmet or shield, or even a shirt,
and a long sword in his hand:
yet, neither very poor nor drunk,
why are you unhappy, Aryan?

VIII
A dead gull in the road,
the body flattened
and the wings spread—
but not to fly out of the dust
over the waves;
and a robin dead beside a hedge,
the little claws drawn up
against the dusty bundle:
has there been a purge of Jews
among the birds?