The Forbidden Zones
Christopher Barnes, UK
“As he (Keitner, an S.S. guard) showed me
the main dining room, he smiled and said,
‘you see, of course, how the Fuhrer
appreciates comfort”.
one of Hitler’s maids anon.
Hesitate at the fitchetlock
he may be barring the door
then
sniff the ostentatious life.
Ignore voluble bantering
of servants in white
chiming as they reach
giddy-points of the room.
The great jangle, wealth
will deafen you,
singing in this German madhouse,
baritones, rare birds
bouncing notes off priceless tapestries.
A clash at each course
served up
on solid silver of the Jews.
Rush happily over the prospect
of arrant oak table
flitting a crisp cloth.
Soft glow, four etchings by Durer,
a vast Persian carpet,
is this not for angels
dancing on the rays
of his pure light?
But when you have wearied
to the chambers go
with Parisian pornography
private marble bathrooms,
a portrait of the Fuhrer over the bed.
