Stela of the Vultures

Ningirsu hoists the naked
And the dead high in his net,
A city-king’s fantasy

Of divine-sanctioned, blood-soaked,
Genocidal victory,
Forty-four centuries gone.

Care to give us an update?
Gods are still being invoked
Everywhere the ground’s blood-soaked.

Leaders loom larger than life,
Greater than their little flesh,
Still in all their fantasies,

And the people believe them,
Or switch their hopes among them,
Still scavengers, all of them.