ALPHABET OF LOVE

Little Ghosts

34 The Alphabet of Love LITTLE GHOSTS This overwhelming sense of dread, Damp tendrils wrapped tightly Around children’s heads; Two doors slam shut And she bolts up in bed. It is midnight in Prague— Bleary eyed, she leaves her room. The front desk manager Takes one glance at her And knows where she’s been. He offers her tea And leaves an extra glass out; “It is for the little ghosts,” he says, “The children who slept here Days before they were sent to Terezin And later to find their fate at Auschwitz.” “You see,” he explains, “This was once a way station. The young ones were kept at this place Prior to their deportation. They were, indeed, orphans, The poor unfortunates who died twice— First, when their parents were led away Or shot in the street, And, again, when the Gestapo Trapped them behind these walls.” He states this rather methodically, Without surprise to find her Wandering sleepless at this hour. “It is the malady of many Who unknowingly board here. The little ghosts reveal themselves Only to the ears and eyes of strangers.” Bart Edelman 35 The next morning She approaches the desk To check out early. The manager has her bill calculated Before a word is spoken. She detects his wry smile And hears a small voice call As she steps into the past— A familiar train at her back, Belching smoke down the tracks. ...