Nadezhda Sergeevna Alliluyeva*

The thunder shuttered
the floorboards,
 
as my memories went
back to my childhood
 
when he saved me from
drowning, during his time
 
of exile. A proper Bolshevik,
I thought of myself, so
 
I walked hand in hand
with the party leader.
 
I was 18 when I became
his wife, but my mind
 
was made long before
when I had first met him
 
when I was 10. My bipolar
disorder made me a mad woman
 
in his eyes, and
after I told him how stupid
 
he was acting I was found in my bed
with a revolver at my side.
 
The doctor said
I died of appendicitis,
 
so to my dear husband
why did I have a gun?
 
He said he loved me,
but all I can remember is
 
his relentless tongue,
like steel and vanilla.
 
* - Nadezhda Sergeevna Alliluyeva is the second wife of Joseph Stalin.

​

Red Shoes

His knock echoes throughout the house
my grandmother’s words run through my head
“Don’t open the door for strangers.”
The shoes were vibrantly glowing through my window
they seemed to be calling my name.
My hands reached for the knob.
The rusty hinges squealed in agony. The red shoes
now in full sight. My eyes slowly look up at my visitor.
My legs tremble as he stares back toward
my little body. The cold winter air blows past him
allowing my nostrils to take in his alarming aroma.
The grey haired man took a step into the house
knowing what he wanted. He knew I was alone.
My eyes once again wonder, but this time
he sees my grandmother’s old silver Cadillac
pulling onto the street,
and those red shoes turn around, but his azure eyes
stare into mine. I could read them clearly,
telling me he would be back.