Socialist Sonnet No. 98

Fault Lines

 

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.

 

D. A.