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The Rubble
by Lopa Banerjee (Poetry) | Published On: 03-Apr-2016

A city, in shards,
The splinters, feeding themselves
with corpses, settling between
trampled bodies, thighs, palms,
Blood and crooked bones. 
The media rushes to grab yet another 'scoop'
Feasting eyes on a deadly collapse
The pictures of ruins hang precariously 
Sighing in virtual tears in laptops and TV screens.
If it is a muffled groan, a wild shriek,
We rush to catch it whole, the charred flesh
of yet another apocalypse, the ruckus, 
the bloodbath and the discourse of it all
tempting us, mirroring our own slain selves.

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