A different sort of Shakespearean Sonnet
Adolf Eichmann's Last Night
(A Shakespearean Sonnet)
He ponders order silvered bright in rain,
Gun-metal curtains cutting muddy streams.
He hears each drop, yet one more soul to drain
down vast entrails of slick and sleepless dreams.
He knew he'd seen and felt his master's sight
The white and black he came to know so well
When things that used to be so eas'ly right
The children's cries still call his name from hell.
The cigarette he lit with steady hands,
He sees the smoke from stacks that scorched the sky
That carried keys to solve the blood's demands:
A light solution blacking out the lie
The dream of cleansing not to be fulfilled,
Will end in gallows, what began in kilns.