When my brother was living in Baltimore a few years back, I went south to see him. He took my husband and I to the Holocaust Museum in nearby D.C. I remember the exhibit on eugenics and the excellent display about the rise of Nazi power. But what I remember most of all was that heap of old, mismatched shoes. Their smell: like soot and rotting leather. The poem I wrote about them came out this autumn in ROOM (link to my poem on the left).
