LILY GREENBERG CALL

August 2008

Lily Nikole Greenberg Call was born under the sign of Aquarius on January 28, 1998. At four years old, she entered her first poetry contest at the Laguna Beach Library with two poems: "Goldfish in the Sky" and "Grandpa." She won first place for these poems and has continued to place first and most recently second for six consecutive years. Lily’s first public reading was sponsored by Tebot Bach in May 2008 at the Laguna Niguel Library. Two nights later, Lily, along with her sister Avalon, was featured at the New Voices reading at the Ugly Mug in Orange. Lily is a recipient of the High Honors award through the John Hopkins Talent Search program. In 2007, she was the youngest student attending the UCI Academy for Gifted Students. She is also a talented visual and performing artist, having won awards through Imagination Celebration and the California State Reflections art and writing program.

BLACK THREAD

Scared and proud
Like a butterfly in bondage

A symbol of death
The captor of the butterfly

The great lion closes in on the meek lamb
The lion’s breath; poison gas.

Found in a ditch,
On the arm of a dead one
Passed on to another.
(All have black grease numbers carved into their soul)

Been on many arms,
Seen many atrocities.

5 years on the Major’s vest
Marched into war
Torn apart

Heard the kaddish,
Heard the shots.
Seen the beatings,
Seen the blood.
“Go! Left! Hurry, swine!”

The word embroidered in black thread.
The symbol that gave life to death.
JUDE. SWASTIKA.

Ashes scattered on the ground.
Smells of flesh burning.
Mothers severed from their babies.
Sobbing. Wailing walls. Beating hearts tearing.
A tiny fissure is
Enough.

The Major never cries.
He sees bodies ripped open.
His face contorts.

Again dead.
Again on another.
A pattern that never changes.
You watch silently, tears flowing silently.

Delighted with your victory.
No sympathy for the 500 you add to the list

The pattern of death,
Of killing, of burning.
Of regret, of resentment.
Of six million.

Smell burning bodies.
See flesh lampshades.
Being washed with the soap of human fat.
Striped grimy cloth on bodies of bones.

Screams of anguish,
Cries of regret.
Click.
The chamber closes.
The string of hope has been cut.

The people are free.
The killers are gone.
But you are still not
Free.
On the vest of a dead Major.

-----------------

THE GHOST OF THE PILGRIM GIRL

Victim of cholera
From the ship
Mayflower
Augusta -- buried at sea.

Body, washed up on shore.
(The whole night is like a second when you sleep)
Soul, travels to the Imp women and girls,
A group of lost souls held captive by the sea.
Like water ghosts gracefully swimming.
The lone call of the Imp; the song of remembrance.
High-pitched, loon-like, they grieve for their families.

Translucent, gossamer skin, revealing veins.
The wet slicked-back brow.

Queen of the Imp Alphainium welcomes
Augusta in her house of coral and blue shells.
Seaweed curtains, sea flowers for bows.

Still, Augusta laments for her dog
From the ship
Mayflower

Gliding through water, mist and fog
He comes, reluctant at first embrace.
She swims back to the Imp, with her dog in her
arms for her own, new life.

When all at lost is home and found