A Tower in Silence

One year on.

High above Mumbai
on Malabar Hill
stands a mist caressed
silent tower
 
A shrine of mystery
where carrion birds flock to feast
on reverently readied
cadavers of indigent beggars
and former dignitaries
waiting ravening beak and claw,
to soar high with eagles
 
or become flesh of vultures’ flesh.
 
A tower of awful silence
stands over London W10
 
A cemetery of disregarded souls
 
the world in miniature;
 
the poor and poorer
children, fathers, aged mothers
council tenants, undocumented others
collaterals of a theology where
avarice is the key and profit the deity.
 
The twisted charred remains
of those awaiting salvation
waving despairing sheets
at cyanide smoke windows
before fire flash-brazed them
carbonised flesh of flesh
inseparable from scorched rags
Poundshop plastic kitchenware
cheap carpets, cheese-plants,
beds, bookcases, bibles,
and BrightHouse flat screen televisions
now await sniffing spaniel noses
to be located, enumerated, toe-tagged
removed in zipped-up body bags
 
Taken down to earth.
Laid in earth.
 
To become the earth.

© coolhermit 2020
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