Blitzkrieg
A true story
Her guarantee – they’ll die
under nuclear bombs:
One burst over Guildford,
God knows why so random,
perhaps the commuter line,
perhaps the Tory votes;
so she is planning,
to cut her first-born’s throat.
A Cuban missile crisis
unfolded across the news,
world war fear door-stepped,
radiates, now cold truth.
She’d survived Doodlebugs,
as tiles slipped, glass was blown,
but could it happen again?
A final atomic bomb:
She would lay him in a small bed,
a whisky swig before slicing,
make that planned throat-cut line,
as the TV played the siren.