They in their purple and their crimson
faces painted like a mural in a brothel,
their tired hair piled high and
hands in an attitude of most
Holy Sacred Prayer did
take their children
to the temple of their fathers
and their fathers' fathers,
there to be fed to the brazen beast
as was the custom
and their great privilege.
And you could not say them wrong
for they would have no ears to hear it
nor did they have eyes to see
their babies' faces
as the priests took their spotless virgin
offerings--and no god intervened.
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