Lipik Postcard, Croatia, Yugoslavia, 1982.(poem)

Lipik's graveyard is lush as tropics,

blushing a hundred wet blooms,

the village women tending them.

A vendor sent me to this garden,

directing me in perfect Deutsch

and promising that I could reach

the grave of Alfred Miller,

my great-grandfather,

son of the village innkeeper,

who died hiding, running

with partisans, his yellow star on,

shot near the war's end by Nazis (Croatian).

Across from the vendor's kiosk

was the ...

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