Blue Grit

The old suburb has been buried
choking on dust, rock and rubble
tunnels gouge beneath deserted streets
stone-chewing merciless drills
pulse with subsonic vibration
and they strip the words from clay brick walls
high pressure hoses and chipping chisels
crumbling rotted mortar falling
pulling every stone apart
with fingernail and incisor
a century of ubiquity and urban mystery
under the tread of mechanical caterpillars
history is in the air.

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