He has an appointment 
with the Gestapo. He,
a Polish Jew, owner 
of a brewery, husband, 
father of two.
It is December, 
nineteen-forty-two.
Before he leaves 
the house, he leaves
his good wool coat, 
cashmere, new,
for a friend,
though it is Lublin 
winter, ice 
and cold.
When they meet, 
they strip him
of the brewery, 
shoot him 
in the head. 
His coat remains 
to warm the friend.
Published in Bloodroot Literary Magazine, 2009
Nominated for Pushcart Prize