Mein Fuhrer, Mein Leiter

Even the eucalyptus wilted
Poplars paraded north and south
Summer bones exposed for all to see
O’er brown lawns, a cactus stood guard
Storm drains waited
Everywhere
Swigging their anticipation in silence.

A black cavalcade arrived
Hard rubber sending up dust
The Chancellor emerged
Blue brocade and handbag
Behind arose the dark suit
Of the Vizenkanzler
And the Chair-of-Brussels
Who looked at the sky
And frowned.

‘Engel!’, they shouted
‘Königin!’, they cried
So pausing in a friendly place
Here and there
She took their photos
Toys
Or just things
They had made.

‘How determined and serene!’, whispered the women to each other
‘How brave her face!’, said men to their secret selves
Her famous smile settled
On her famous face
Which see
She tilts now towards the palace steps.

The delegation moved
In gentle stilts and bounds
Along the carpet, to a place
Where a toy lay lost
She paused
Searching the crowd.

A small voice answers
‘Are you a Nazi?’
Security ignored it
The microphones pick it up
How could they not?

Sensing an opportunity, perhaps
Königin kneels
Takes the child’s hands in hers
‘No’, says she, ‘and I would not like you to think of me as one.’
The other offers her her balloon.
Blue brocade smiles back, ‘Why don’t you keep it.’
‘Because you're beautiful.’

Engel opens mouth
No words come out
She tries to stand, but fails
And bows her head instead
One by one
Her tears fall into the dust.

And heaven opens
Like heartbreak.

Struggling somehow to her feet
She staggers straight
Into glare of lenses
Makeup mangled with tears
And for a moment
She cannot think
Quite what to do
Nor where to go
Until…
Appears at her elbow
The hand of the Vizenkanzler
The Chair-of-Brussels with handbag at the other
And together they
Usher her up
Stone steps
Amid a black cavalcade
Of umbrellas.