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THE LAST SUPPER: Schindler’s Ark

Maggie Hall

Metal containers lost on a street with money traded for skin. A fine time to die in the middle of chaos crossing a bridge. Playing with a white band of pure cotton, chandeliers turn a 6 into a 9. Number instead of a name.

This testimony of those who suffered, a stolen secret room hidden under the carpet. You might find the two lit candles that open this scene. Watch closely as the first glows dim. Their names were typed in black and red ink, put on a list with matching cufflinks. A green note sat next to the bible as the tango played along to black and white smoking fingers. A table sits reserved while the orchestra plays. $50 for a round, as Schindler speaks. On the table are two empty glasses, and a bottle of Masters.

She wears sequins that reflect his green suit with wings. They applaud as the clown begins to perform. The tango changes tune, and French champagne is poured. The flash of a camera sings to a reserved table, for the lady with pearls. Another flash as soldiers laugh outside while they cut off the Payos, on either side of his face.

An Underwood typewriter stamps with a bullet and glue as they line up with documents meant to signal freedom. Paintings inside the house on a wall, look down to Joseph and his coat, part of a collection he ordered, of forged commissioned art. I was just the accountant for an army of ants. Given in a contract written behind each half hour of the clock. They are not permitted to own a business, but if the price is right can be part of the ordered presentation. March across to the church where Strychnine lemons are hung off each cross. The testimony resides in a library full of broken soldiers.

In a Holocaust cast of consecrated text there sits a man who plays an accordion, traded with an ear for music. Not a gambling man but a prisoner and a son. An Ark made more sense than the list. The imagery seemed to play better between each sub-text. And what of the symbology given to a handbag, left outside that shop for sale?

The forsaken empire of a pepper mountain that drew the writers mind to those fallen lights and tales. And what happened to the eagle without wings? It was the railway that carried them across false rails. Trapped in a journey to falsely understood camps.

A photocopy was made of each name that got turned into a number. Aircraft shells to lift a black market. The pretty one who made the cut ran a jewelry store full of gold and burnt silver. The Last Supper for a table of

12. Bread soaked in the color purple, above the cups of red wine, made to look white. There he sits above a cross the man who looks like a magical creature, the one wrote the book.

During the scout they found gold teeth behind rusted bars. Spirit of descendants in a fight and scream for the last seat on a laddered bus. Steam trains and three wise men in a destination to a businessman with abstractions of cash. The seduction would outlast each roll across chambers of glass. The man with a dolly moves from right of stage as the hand-picked extras dress up in a history ordered to play, before that scene in a pharmacy, the roll that held each wounded. And on the cut, a dying eagle grew its wings, and flew up.

Records of memorabilia were lost on her beautiful face. Features in a ghetto of timberyard dogs. A siren screams as the clock hand turns to each coatrack. They each left a story of memories lost. Touched by the seer in leftover shoes and false teeth. Come back into another body that is carried by a swallow from, The Guf, a treasury of souls. There is a fable written underneath the table of 12, a tale for each remembered grey face of a ghost.

Sleepers recovered in the afterburn are left engraved with a future in the hope of their children. The haunting of a lost unread letter. Imagine an image of a sitter in that portrait. They open the door to a stable to find 46 faces. Caught in a field of skyscrapers and a tower made of vanilla ice. This is the future. The cream melts onto a rosewood violin case, she orates a mystery in a verse, a romance book turned into silent wonder. There are now 50 faces joined in a paper circle cut-out, they are surrounded by fire in a lost forest garden with sharpened scissors. The first note in a symphony of violin’s in a string orchestra play called shiver. She sings a solo while crossing railway tracks. Where wooden dolls are made of black and white feathers exposed in a dress made of salt and pepper.

- Maggie Hall © 2023.

Guf is a Hebrew word, meaning "body". In Jewish mysticism the Chamber of Guf, also called the Otzar " ,רָצוֹאָה(treasury"), is the Treasury of Souls

Pe'ot, anglicized as payot or payes, is the Hebrew term for sidelocks or sideburns. Payot are worn by some men and boys in the Orthodox Jewish community based on an interpretation of the Tanakh's injunction against shaving the "sides" of one's head.

Written by Maggie Hall

AI Artwork created through prompt engineer & creator, Maggie Hall.

All Rights Reserved on article and photographs

Maggie Hall © 2023.