Saturday, November 11, 2006

The collaborator

The Collaborator


Behind a wall, with broken glass sadistically embedded
on top, a woman harvests King George potatoes from
her small plot. she spent most days here now, since
they had shaved off her beautiful hair; she had been spat
on by the town’s people, for collaborating with the enemy.

Colonel Hans Horst, their love was born in war, fervent,
all embracing, there was no time for bourgeois morality,
unspoken, both knew it was not going to last. Hair grows
back, grey now, but still thick and glossy, she was secure,
in her certainty, that she had been true to herself and him.

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