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Foxhole I never understood Why you came to me that night. I had already crawled Into the foxhole that Would serve us later As my grave. But you came anyway, Crossing the blasted landscape Of our battlefield, cutting the wires To stand over me Silent and glowering. Was it hatred or love That drove you then-- To wrap me in So raw an embrace, Pierce me and fill me With your bitterness? (Can there be such a thing As a compassionate Nazi Because he soothes The terrified Jew, dying On the end of his bayonet?) How odd that you Would slay me with one hand While attempting to Save me with the other-- And either way You won.
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