Pardon Our Dust

Pardon the dust on our minds
for we are building a pillar of bones,
a remarkable mural of marrow
made from the models
our files have forgotten.
Though our speeches vowed to make
their invisibility so visible,
their plight so plain,
upon the concrete is captured
their stark and sorrowful creations
such a tribute to our artistry in amnesia bureaucracy.
It is all silent expression
from what is served as leftover lies
out of our oven in social care.

Oh transient souls who fall
upon the sticker patch of indifference
will the thorns truly be remembered
when we celebrate our civil progress?

Our gamble is to play our charade with passion
so no one will have time to react
over another destitute heart
since their own misery is so consuming.

Sidewalks become that quiet reply
while they becomes littered
by the lives left to wither
because street sweepers are included in the budget
whereas entitlements are not
without a majority vote,
which must be saved
then squandered on legislation to preserve
what beautiful edifices we can tax to make.