Saturday, October 7, 2017


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

and the heartbeat grows
                    ever          more


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