To The Disappeared Ones
The rugged skyline
Buenos Aires rooftops
buildings on clouds
shadow beg
in black and blue
on fatal grounds
where boys barter
for warmth and hunks of bread
in hungry wait for searchlight signs
from the neon city of buses
where rust roses and sun flowers
that are watched
by every street police guard
fade into the rain

sister asking for water
could bring instant death
here in eternity's disbelief;
brown-robed priests ride by
in post-war Volkswagens
unearthing names
in lists of hundreds.

Barricades of steel shiver;
shadow, nail and bones
sentenced to solitude
near bloodstained rocks
in the pictureless hole
by twisted torture chairs
with interminable hands
of extreme unction;
notes pass unnoticed
in that death squad night.

B. Z. Niditch