Upon Learning Anti-Nazi Resistance Met in Amsterdam’s Red-Light District

After Willem Arondeus

Praise thigh-high stockings, legs crossed just so,

toes bobbing to the echo

of angry boots on cobblestone.

Midnight creatures swathed in scarlet,

nymphs six feet tall, barricade

secret meetings within their high-heeled wall.

They are the freaks for every flavor, black-market

angels smuggling rations to the family

that hides behind the bookcase.

They are the pouty lips, chin-high tits

(real and bought), living bright

as a lighthouse beam in the ink of night.

When history returns, pale and bloodthirsty

to that dark alley, may I steel myself before

pushing it into the siren’s red flame.