Manneken Pis

Impassive, a stone putti sprinkles a jest:
merchants fortune in human by-product.

Buckets slopped, savoured and saved
for mordant, medicine and gunpowder.

A pot to piss in might feed the family;
a bag of blood will see you through

the lean times.

Gutter sluiced secrets, an explosive topic
for dinner party poopers sculpted humour.

Let us talk about receipts, mummy dust,
harvested bone of icons, longevity and lust.

Alchemists do not fade with time, they change
their name, let it ride on bets, up their game

on pleuripotency, stocks and shares.

Cells have walls,
but not for them.