(Eastern Europe -1943)
After the crowbar and the big sticks
comes the music
after the bludgeoning and the massed crowd of neighbours
comes the music
after the blood spilling over cobbles and slabs
comes the sound of a cheerful accordion
the click of its buttons, the wheezy notes.
After the round eyes
the drained, white faces
after the thin arms
held up in futile supplication
and the one head that turned away
not being able to look
comes the fresh-faced joy of the music
and the wiry grinning man
perched on the hill of the bodies
like death's celebratory manikin.
After the stripped children in the wood
comes the music
after the deep trenches
and the men smoking their fags
after the prayers
and the faces lifted to Heaven
comes the music
drifting away on the damp air.