Lost Towers

by David Baresch, Japan

Within the city high towers stood
Amid such filth that they almost hid,
For a shroud of clouds of spirals of grit,
They swirled, they curled, as a boa in grip.
 
For this the age of toxicity’s grime,
Here reads the industrial clime,
And swathes of poison fall to the feet,
Flooding through a funeral of streets.
 
This the air that profit stokes, this the air that fills all throats.