Last week the Nazis were busy, stripping flesh and muscle from bone,
flamethrowers burned travellers in crammed train compartments.
I watched the skins go in the heat, then the veins bubble and flare,
muscle and sinew blacken then vaporise like film on fire.
This week, they were back. They crammed in through the front door
shuffling shoulder to shoulder filling my grubby house.
A woman who presents home improvement shows on telly
supervised. Furniture got smashed and thrown out of windows.
Garbled German shouts as the rooms are trashed. The Nazis squeeze
back out through the door, their collective boots echo down the stairs.
The woman is appalled she has let this happen, but as I look around
the house it is white and gleaming and through my terror think
“This is actually fine.”