by Anna Naslowska
Translated by Schulamith Chava Halevy
Two elderly ladies sit gossiping over a glass of wine after dinner:
She could not be entirely sane
since you know how it was:
stood with the sister before the crematorium
clucking with wooden clogs,
so she says: it is so cold, let’s go in already
I can’t hold on anymore.
The sister says
no, we’ll wait more
that day the gas ran out
and they both survived.
but they can’t be completely sane.
The next morning the two women tell me
this you did not hear
we do not discuss this history.
It was the wine.
In this matter one keeps silent.
Neither is among the living anymore.
I just forgot who it was about.
Was it not about me?