bRoKeNgRiN

It had been a peaceful love. The radio remained bleating while Natasha gripped Vince’s arm, huddled underneath their home. A bomb shelter. 2300. Russians approaching any moment. Nuclear weapons imminent. Remember protocol. Remember duck and cover. Remember. ______________________________________________________________________________ The Cold War was one of intimidation, or at least, that’s what Natasha believed. Twisting the rags so that it could rid itself of food stains, she continued cleaning the dishes. Vince had a career at the capitol, and every Monday, would return home with roses and intel. Telling stories of McCarthyi

your body is jerusalem, he’ll tell you coveted first, then plundered. – you’re my backwater bedroom martyr, he’ll tell you as he nails your wrists to bedposts, seizes your tongue like a white flag, pulls stones from your parapets – little sister, i’ll tell you the children’s crusade is lost: and you’ll kneel at his sword and know you were always his to take