Like a trick
you crawled up Hitler's sleeve,
a crooked cross with bent arms,
two cursed S's twisted together
like a black strand of DNA.
You look like a mistake,
like two Y's joined at the hip,
the mutant offspring of an L-
a sad, disfigured letter from some
genetically-engineered alphabet
gone terribly wrong.
I watch you wave from a flag
like a finish line
fluttering at the end of a race.
Chris Tusa
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/swastika/
