Behind his shades, beneath the sliding cloud,
he turned onto Baruther Strasse.
He walked through the cemetery
with its spray paint brickwork and its
green wreathed stones and its cold clean stones
and testaments. He walked, revenant, among
the dead, over the rising shadows of
the pigeons and the yew tree,
suddenly and all at once –
that this place was very beautiful;
very beautiful indeed.