On a shattered line of crosses
We piled our hatred high
within these rolling walls
and down beyond a yard of bones
I saw in the suffused morning
crows alighted on a sagging wire
here to feed
They peer to either side
caws loosed beyond the square
and the scattered bones
of a long drawn hunger
make fitful and meager pickings
for us to make an effort
to take our hatred down
I saw the crows peering
at stepping prelates
blind of regard for all but sinners
Down this cobbled street
dark eyes flashing in a cold sun
hearing mutterings of penance
and godly deeds
And in a midday glow
a stake piled with vengence
A figure trussed in a rising flame
looks for a final time
at a crow perched on a spire
another victim to hatred's ire
bows to death
