Wire Pieta
Doubting Thomas parks his car in his Sunday best Taps his wallet, straightens tie, lights a cigarette Pilgrim's progress, no journey's end Which way Michael? Through the door he scans the bar, then a space appears His drink is poured, for he is numb, the service it starts here He sees it in the barmaid's face, a winning smile's caress A million eyes in public stalk, the queue up to confess Lost causes, loves, hates and shames, old battles fought and won Bad debts, bad tips, the graveyard song, the dreamers talk in tongues Haloes swarm, the air is thin, thick smoke in tights of blue Elvis has a wooden heart, eyes dart across the room Empty heads and stomachs full, the ashtrays overflow Drinks are raised and voices praise good deeds of long ago He drains his glass and makes a sign, the Virgin Queen appears The Prince King needs a tender touch, his sacred heart knows no fear Upon a cloud on optic shrine, he can't control his tears On his knees, hands held in prayer, a practice lapsed for years The altar clears, the light grows dim, the sanctus bell is rung A miracle at closing time, our lady holds her son The faithful come to celebrate the vision Thomas saw A rail now stands around the spot where Thomas kissed the floor Amen
