Member-only story
This Hunger
A Poem for Primo Levi
“Survivors not only wake, but reawaken, fall low and begin to die, and then turn back to life.”
Terrence Des Pres
The old chemist sits, alone, his head to his
hand. The memories overtake him.
He recalls a woman, gaunt, emaciated.
Remember, she had said. Please remember the
World of the Lager
As if he wouldn’t.
After the war, he had been so hungry.
He lusted for things.
Pomegranates. The smell of books.
The soft fur of living beings breathing
Alive on this fragrance, this Earth.
It is late.
From the top of the stairs, he can see
Nothing except that the stairs curve around
From the light
Then plunge into darkness.
From the top of the stairs, he looks down.
When he jumps
He is not afraid.
(Author’s note: Primo Levi survived Auschwitz and wrote searing books about his experience. He died on April 1, 1987. Some people believe that tragically, he took his own life).
