The poem
When all the women in the transport had their heads shaved four workmen with brooms made of birch twigs swept up and gathered up the hair
Behind clean glass the stiff hair lies of those suffocated in gas chambers there are pins and side combs in this hair
The hair is not shot through with light is not parted by the breeze is not touched by any hand or rain or lips
In huge chests clouds of dry hair of those suffocated and a faded plait a pigtail with a ribbon pulled at school by naughty boys.