Poem: The Planners by Boey Kim Cheng

120

 

The Planners

 

Boey Kim Cheng

 

 

They plan. They build. All spaces are gridded,

filled with permutations of possibilities.

The buildings are in alignment with the roads

which meet at desired points

linked by bridges all hang

in the grace of mathematics.

They build and will not stop.

Even the sea draws back

and the skies surrender.

 

They erase the flaws,

the blemishes of the past, knock off

useless blocks with dental dexterity.

All gaps are plugged

with gleaming gold.

The country wears perfect rows

of shining teeth.

Anaesthesia, amnesia, hypnosis.

They have the means.

They have it all so it will not hurt,

so history is new again.

The piling will not stop.

The drilling goes right through

the fossils of last century.

 

But my heart would not bleed

poetry. Not a single drop

to stain the blueprint

of our past’s tomorrow.

 

Piling] building foundations

Blueprint] architectural plan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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