I see the scaffolding go up
brutal young men
joking, cigarettes, brown skin
I know what comes next
a shroud is pulled up
inside a home breathes
its last breath
They will attack the house
with hammers and bars
a mini excavator will
finish the job
Tatami straw, cedar posts, clay roof tiles
torn, twisted, cracked
heaped in a pile
the dust of another century
settles, lightly
The shroud comes down
Someone's history has been
erased
and the heartbeat grows
ever more
faint
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