City of Death
The city reminded her
Of a room full of dark flies;
The constant sound of buzzing;
The frightening hitting of
Bodies against the sides; but
Something more disturbing was
Brought to mind: the memory
Of Mr Danzinki who
Died in a room up on Eastside,
And no one found him for months
On end, and the flies got in
And laid their seeds, and they came
To fruition and buzzed in
Turn, and when his rescuers
Opened the door of the room,
There was that awful smell of
Decomposition, and a
Swarm of flies, and the image
That someone told her as a
Child of the sickening find,
Took up residence in her
Mind and stayed there, and somehow
Related to the city, and
The whole buzz and noise of the
Place, and maybe some dying
Corpse down there in the moving
Throng, and a sense of death and
Dying in the city's air.
poem by Terry Collett
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