A Year Abroad

(In A.D. 9 Q. Varus marched three legions into an ambush in Teutoburg Forest. "From ancient times onward the circumstances surrounding the end of Roman rule in Germany have been an occasion for prejudice and rhetoric. Varus was made the spacegoat for the miscalculations of Roman policy; the contrast between the inertia or benevolence of Varus and the energy of Arminius, between the Roman governor and the native prince, was drawn in vivid colours, and artfully employed to personify the opposition between civilization and freedom.")

Holding his breath, he watched the whole wing flex
And flex and saw the bouncing jet pods stream
With condensation as they plowed through clouds.
He saw the stewardess back down the aisle
Smiling at seat belts. His lap was headlines - now
Another Electra had burst in two and still
No planes were grounded. Down there somewhere crowds
Hushed in the bars: the un-trust-busted Yankees
Were squeezing a World Series in the till -
Millions puffed and stared, the beer suds spilled.
The diplomatic pilot dipped a wing,
Lufthansa's bow to the United States ...
His Volkswagen was waiting. If he drove
On through the night, by dawn he could salute
The Arch of Titus with his German plates.

Cologne he knew - Jew-baiting mothers who
Just couldn't get enough and chewed their hair.
Roman Agrippina had been born there.
Nineteen and weeping for perfection, he'd
Been lost each morning. He would wake with a start
Pacing along a lot that faced the Dom.
Powdered bricks had made the ground lip-red,
Electric bells bonges in the shaved-off belfry.
He'd watch the pigeons rise and settle, rise
And settle, gobbling, then he'd go buy bread.

Cologne to Wolfsburg for the People's Car,
Through Lippe, Saltus Teutoburgiensis.
Though it was Varus who when Herod died
Crunched up Judaea, from Teuroburg Forest he
Would bear the Eagles of Varus back to Rome:
History's straight-man, ambushed by his aide,
His trusted German, into suicide,
Bald, civilized, delicious - never praised,
But chosen by Augustus. Rome gawked, amazed ...
The NATO general salutes the prizes.
His Holiness stops at et credo, and rises
To touch the braid and tatters. Washington
And Bonn have flown the long-lost Eagles home.
The place is crushed! the packed, cowed faces hushed,
Underdeveloped stomachs aching to cheer.

He heard the engines screaming for more air.
He pushed and drifted - waking smelling like steam.
Bellow him were the blank and lined-up roofs
Of suburbs ... showers, crematoria ...
The john tiles where his father's soft eyes worked
The crossword puzzle jackpots, poetry
Of Jews, ten thousand dollars for first prize.
Red bullets to the brain, the Seconal ...
The world was turning into dawn, just as
The jet plane's sixteen landing wheels set down.