Potato peeler

 Dedicated to Dmitry Sliozberg ,
 who met his demise by the
 cruelty of the Soviet military
 machine. Abakanovo, Vologda
 Region, 69-th anti-aircraft
 defense Brigade , USSR,1988.


In a far-away, across-the-ocean, always smiling country,
Where supermarkets are all bright, and full, and shiny,
I went and bought a plain potato peeler.
And memories, erased by time, were reborn quickly,
And drew the gloomy picture back to me much clearer.

I saw a snowy, dreary, hungry Russian winter,
And barracks full of soldiers, stern and rigid.
There was a Jewish kid from Moscow – former student,
He tried his best to live in an atmosphere hostile and frigid.

His name was Dima . He was shy, polite and friendly –
The only child his parents ever knew.
But Comrade Major had his personal opinion:
“This schmuck’s place is in the kitchen, among the chosen few.”

They gave him as his weapon that dull and rusty knife,
And peeling up potatoes he was both days and nights.
And not a single kind word he ever did receive –
Just yells, and screams, and punches,and threats he could believe…

His body was found hanging over the potato pile:
“Committed suicide”,- was written in his file.
The military belt became of fatal use…
“He was no good for a soldier—he couldn’t stand abuse.
The Motherland needs tough men -- like a brick, a rock, a nail !”-
Said Comrade Major smoking his Belomor-Kanal.

I’m telling you, America – it’s time to play it wise.
Instead of joint maneuvers and monetary funds,
Export potato peelers – save Russian soldiers’ lives !
 
                1995