SLAM!

eva and adolf



alone in a bunker
with my own little man
as the army of rouge
zigzags
its lipstick smears
across berlin
I watch the pain etched
deep in your brow
while your eyes they stare
at the gun on the chair

snug and warm
my little one
the soldier bees
with muddy boots
and foreign snarls
have yet to find our nest
- I feel unkempt
- Am I unkempt?
I stroke your hair
and glimpse a sigh
while your eyes they stare
at the gun on the chair

no dreams of how
it could have been
just here and now
just you and I
enveloped
in a bunker embrace
we shall not flinch
when the madmen cry
I will kiss your lips
and say goodbye
as your hands reach out
for the gun on the chair.