Looted Art

Nothing is ever finished

Even if we think it is.

My grandfather killed by

Nazi fanatics

Lives on in a special way

In a pomegranate tree

Planted for him in Israel.

 

My partner B has survived

Her personal labyrinth

Tossed into a shed-like place

Having to stay as a dislodged

Victim of an inhuman woman

In a southern suburb of the

New faced Athens.

 

My art joins the list of

Looted Art –

However I’m still creating

My art in spite of this brutal

Shock to me and mostly to B

Who tried to save some of

The items from her greedy

Fingers

That were collected over

Our lifetime.

 

Still I’m glad we didn’t turn

Bitter

But it’ll take a long time to

Digest the immoral grab of

A hostile host: The long list

Of valuables left to the dogs

Of the rental business.

 

Svetlana’s parties are never

Finished –

Saturday we had some drinks

Buffet style foods and

A joking threesome in

Andre’s inherited red cabaret

Yet black humour I couldn’t

Appreciate.

But we have to count ourselves

Lucky people

For not being attacked by

Knife-wielding foreigners.

B’s loss of personal possessions

But gains of a minimal subsistence

For a survival.

 

My own art robbed without even

Payment as agreed

But if I think of it as being traded

Between interested parties

The artist thus appreciated.

ART.TRA

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’18.

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