Pieta
Who's that old woman cradling an old man?
What brings them near the city walls?
Why the torn shawl, the boots with no heels?
Why is she passing herself as himself?
Why bring a hammer to beat out a dance?
How have they aged, torn like the shawl?
Why are they nursing a child under water?
Why steep the city in blood and in brine?
Do we praise old women soaping old men down?
Why do we receive them within our four walls?
Who do they come for and say they redeem?
Why's the shawl torn at the woman's shoulder?
Did she tear it herself or buy it ripped?
Who dwells amongst old men and women?
Why have they washed the hands they've eaten?
Who cares to dine on marrow and wrinkles?
Who'll take a chance on turning the tables?
Who goes to war recruiting himself?
Who first collected degenerate art?
Who took hammers to dance with pietas?
Who chewed the marble as breakfast in bed?
Who slipped the quick one to the old woman?
Who wept their eyes out kissing old men?
Who pulled up trousers, in a bare glass house?
Who do we care for, and what if they die?
Who do we ransom for a king's pittance?
Where is the city steeped in brine and blood?
Where is the toe of the boots with no heel?
Where is this city of old men and women?
Who partied hard before it surrendered?
Who captured old women kissing old men?
Who died in the arms of broken pietas?