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Jan 152014
 

by Christa Planko 

 

Dilapidated ruins

of a factory once teeming

with workers

sturdy and strong,

embodiments of the bricks they crafted,

now scattered, shattered, broken.

A smoke stack stands erect,

the omniscient foreman of ghosts—

their fire snuffed out long ago

like the abandoned kiln,

gaping mouth full of ash and debris.

Among the rubble,

rusted steel, a partial skeleton

of the fractured edifice

whose layers couldn’t hold—

not against the elements

nor time—

years that have passed,

waging wars and wielding weapons.

The history still whispers,

echoing through the haunted woods

that frame the building’s remains.

And the strength of the bricks

lost to the wail of the wind

that whirls through the pines

and moans among the fallen structure.