A young life

Trellick Tower skeleton

bish bash boshing the sky

gun-metal grey, late in the day

Young blades. Too young by half.

the blade sneering, appearing

from nowhere

never saw it until too late

He stoops. Slumps.

his lungs pump

their valediction

lips an ´o´

tiniest fleck of

spittle

spits at life

another young life

ends before it begins

Lost

Far from suffocating San Marco

or the Rialto's grasping

rasp

we follow little canals

like children on an adventure

The light plays

hide and seek

on the softly lapping waters

Voices drift across the decay

as distant bells sound their

sad refrain