MALINA

Elizabeth Hawes

200 children stolen on July 1, 1944. Those left behind hidden in Lithuanian crevices, under floor boards, in holes. Polish, Russian, Lithuanian forest berries, “malinas”— now whispered code for secret, hidden spaces where concealed children, waiting for the Red Army, lay still, days at a time in 100 degrees beneath SS feet. Decades later, he plods up attic stairs. Teary-eyed and shaky to the attic with small window. Window where he saw another little Jewish boy shot in the head with a finger flick. Body left in the square, unburied. Screaming machine guns and dogs. Weeping mothers. He wiped his eyes, saying, under loose planks my mother saves me. The stairs never leave. I see them when I dream. At a stoplight. Making a meal. Still I lay still under floor boards. Still.