Of darkened lights.

She stammers in Yiddish,
But I do not understand,
And there flits across her face
A shadow
As of a drawn blind.
I give her an orange,
Large and golden,
And she looks at it blankly.
I take her little cold hand and try to draw her to me,
But she is stiff...
Like a doll...

Suddenly she darts through the crowd
Like a little white panic
Blown along the night--
Away from the terror of oncoming feet...
And drums rattling like curses in red roaring mouths...
And torches spluttering silver fire
And lights that nose out hiding-places...
To the night--
Squatting like a hunchback
Under the curved stoop--
The old mammy-night
That has outlived beauty and knows the ways of fear--
The night--wide-opening crooked and comforting arms,
Hiding her as in a voluminous skirt.

The sturdy Ghetto children