Honecker gave the order
To shoot on the inner wall
So comrades died, piled up
Under the American red and whites
Of western Coca-Cola signs

But before the BDR Richter,
Honekcer pleaded
ohne juristische oder
moralische Schuld
For humane end
And to Chile he fled

So in südamerikanischer
Republik der Arbeiter
Did he die in a peace
As easy as those quietus nights;
That tintinnabulum of guns
a funeral eyre
For comrades, pulled under
The blinking lights
Of neon god given rights

But before the end
We are rarely what we wish
And being death
I know
That only one vision came
To Honecker, as he went to
The worker’s shibboleth:

The jolly winter man himself
gripping a bottle
Of sarsaparilla caramel.

Parched from sorrow’s heat
Honecker drank it neat.

Ross Kilpatrick ’23 is a staff writer

Sarah Wu ’25 is a staff artist