She used to dress in black and white,
but yearned for a life less simple,
as she sang to a teutonic marching tune;
a female nazi in a wimple.
She occupied her lover's thoughts,
like a panzer division sweeping through France:
A gay man trapped in a woman's form;
at the slightest excuse, she would dance.
She forced the audience to surrender,
as she stormed the music hall theatre of war,
with the curtains closed and spotlight dimmed;
she played a never ending encore.
She kept her step children wide awake,
with tales of wild dogs and killer bees
that swarmed the hillside of her youth
and played the music of the breeze.
She taught the school of standing tall
and talking straight; stiff upper lip
while making do and mending
without bending; keep a grip.
She ran away, in the final scene,
with the offspring of her aryan lover,
climbing into climactic clouds,
where she was betrayed and shot, crossing the border.
