Can you write left-handed poetry?   The clerk at the Schreibstube produced samples on a paper pad: gutter rhymes, obscenities, filthy limericks. Eighteen year old Abraham Cykiert had written verse since fourteen, but, in Auschwitz, a good poem earned extra soup, bread. Even shoes.   Cykiert wrote the doggerel well, becoming a member of a group, that amused capos and SS at camp functions. The Nazis loved his filth, and laughed. At the end of the night, the entertainers were rewarded with party leftovers,   but after the war, Abraham Cykiert was so ashamed of the left-handed poetry he had…