Hesse at Spandau

                    
On film decades later, 
ancient, gummy-mouthed, 
eyebrows alive, you shuffle 
up a path at Spandau. 

Alone in this prison within 
a prison you still serve as 
scapegoat for kammeraden 
long-released. A ghost 

in the garden, you watch 
the cameras warily, like 
the cameras once watched 
you standing by your god, 

echoing his sentences, 
guarding his back, marching 
three respectful paces 
behind him, to the right.