The real fault is not subterranean.
Speculators and their compliant state
Caring more for profit than people’s fate,
Or inconvenient regulation
Simply circumscribed by backhanded gifts.
Body after body after body,
Battered, broken, lifted from the shoddy
Where apartments dropped like free falling lifts.
Charity appeals are quickly begun.
Survivors become miracles when dragged
From rubble, as the rest are body bagged
While the media poses, “What can be done?”
Through all societies fault lines are found,
With capital standing on shaky ground.