8 Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse (part 2)
Full name please
“You already know it”
Full name please,
he unsmilingly repeats
Corpulent man,
in ill-fitting uniform,
glares at me from,
behind his typewriter
“Alright …Hahn, Barbara”
Date of birth?
“17 June 1914”
Thirty years old then?
“Good at math then?”
Insolence will get you nowhere.
Street address?
“24 Dresdener-Strasse”
Remove your clothing?
“What?”
You heard me,
do it now!
Heart racing,
I hesitate, glancing around
he nods meaningfully,
to his silent henchmen
Now, fraulein, do it,
or they will gladly,
do it for you,
Reluctantly I obey
Open my blouse,
slip it from,
my shoulders,
set it aside
Cries and screams,
from down the corridor,
what kind of hell,
am I entering?
Under watchful gaze,
I loosen my skirt,
slide it over my hips,
and let it drop
Stepping out,
feeling cold and exposed,
I wrap my arms,
tightly ‘round myself
Continue please fraulein,
he orders impatiently,
I look at him blankly,
then comply very slowly
Reaching behind my back,
I undo my bra,
press it briefly to my chest,
before letting it drop
I hear the sucking in,
of his henchman’s breath,
their eye’s glued lustily,
to my bared breasts
“Happy?” I ask,
putting on a brave front,
Continue, he replies,
eyes moving downward
With a sigh of resignation,
my thumbs loop under the band,
my panties slide down,
and fall to my ankles
Hopping on one foot,
then the other,
I step out,
then kick away
Hesitate a moment,
then bend down,
my nylon hose
from garter belt to release
Stop there! he commands,
That’s enough,
where you are going,
they will enjoy seeing you in those.
Ripping paper from
his typing machine,
he reaches in,
his desk drawer
Withdraws a metal disc,
imprinted with a number,
You are prisoner 684,
he officiously intones
While I stand trembling,
With one hand over my breasts,
the other covering the triangle,
of my exposed womanhood
He steps around me,
and with leather cord,
affixes around my neck,
my identifying disc
One last thing,
and we are done here,
extend your wrists,
‘cuffs snapped on.
Nodding to his henchman,
with a smugly satisfied look,
Take her away to cell 14,
and leave her there to think
Nakedly hustled,
down the corridor,
my heels clicking absurdly,
on the concrete floor
Past rows of cells,
their occupants,
moaning and groaning,
bile rising in my throat
Keys rattle on ring
inserted in lock,
door swings open,
shoved inside.
Nose assaulted,
with foul stale smell,
of human excrement,
urine,vomit, and fear
Gray painted walls
smeared and stained,
a bare light bulb,
from ceiling hangs
Backed up against a wall,
arms over head,
cuffed wrists,
to an iron ring fixed
Stepping back to survey,
my helplessness and nakedness,
my handlers grin wolfishly,
their eyes roving up and down
Over my bare upturned breasts,
nipples tight and standing high,
down the slope of my tummy,
to the curly patch of hair on my mound
Leave her Hansi,
don’t even think it,
warns one to the other,
Our orders are to leave her
The interrogators,
will be here soon,
it’s their job, not ours,
to loosen her tongue
Lucky bastards have all the fun,
she’s soft and vulnerable,
they’ll crack her easily,
too bad we can’t watch
The cell door slams shut,
receding footsteps,
frightened and shivering,
I face the unknown
TO BE CONTINUED
Barbaria, 2014