they’ve erected a statue
right on the main square
where the gutters swill red
it must all go somewhere

more than a grand opening
there the ribbon is cut
the people jockey to see
a democracy forgot

note his moment of glory
how blindly the crowd loves
none mention the bodies
a truth that secretly rubs

& yet in a week or so
the leavings will remain
of know-nothing pigeons that
care not for fascist gain