After Supper in Újvidék
Our cousin plays the clarinet.
He plays after supper in Újvidék.
He plays in Hungary, in Ugoslavia, in Novi Sad,
Serbia, all at once and in one spot.
He plays in an upper room. The shadow
of a ceiling fan passes over him like a wing.
He plays the clarinet. He plays klezmer,
Gershwin, rhapsodies. He plays in an upper room
after supper in Újvidék by the Danube River.
Seconds, seasons, years. He keeps time
with the soft tap of his shoe. Now. Now. Now.
A shadow passes over him like a wing.
Our cousin plays the clarinet.
People around him urge him to stop.
His mother, his father, his sister, and his friends.
He plays and he plays. Men appear
and pick him up, chair, clarinet
and all and toss him down the stairs.
They line him up with the others
and shoot him in the back of the head.
They toss him with the others on the ice
of the frozen Danube River after supper.
Our cousin plays the clarinet
all the way to the black Black Sea.