National Business

The architect draws from his file 

a map, on which 

a tiny spot is red-circled.

Here, he says,

six billion investment;

His eyes glisten like coins

and his black tie dangles like a sword 

above the blueprint of a tower,

cadaverous, awe-provoking, 

the color of champagne gold.

 

I know the block of the street, where 

rosy clouds flew over

houses with mortared walls, 

though moss-eaten, 

home to eaves-seeking swifts,

rattled now, 

by excavator tires.

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