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Beichuan 7.9

by

Henry Igbinedion

Constipated, tremulous…
   Her fury vented
      In a sudden bowel spasm.

Hillside, slope side,
   All tumbled in a cataclysm of shredded timbers
      And clinking china.

Convulsed,
   She puked forth her insides,
      Palace and Hovel,
         Cascaded undignified,
            As chaos wedded
               In a union of Mangled Flesh and broken metal

Surreal silence…stabbed by shrill screams
   Of the maimed and the dying, birthing
      A cacophony of echoes
         As Racing sirens and rotored birds clattered for space,
            In the race of the Samaritans.

Amidst the bedlam of the dying and the dead,
   Diggers and pizzas raced for pace, as
      Gnawed fingers burrowed warm flesh
         From a sandwich of fire, smoke, and tinkered walls.


Puny Man!
   Taken into the abyss, will
      From the epicentre,
         Sprout the stout limbs
            To invigorate the Earth,

Bringing to the fore,
   Life as we know it.

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