The Wrecking Ball

The wrecking ball throws a crisp uppercut at a corner face of brick, leaving toothy mortar gaps and half-clotted wiring behind. A lull, another blow, and ghosts loom up from the dust of beaten carpets. The ball hangs back and contemplates.
     Across the street, a balcony of patients congregates. They wait, they watch the wrecking ball, IV stands trailing in the pause. Their gowns hang blue upon their frames, their rheumy eyes forget to blink, cigarettes suspend their ash. Still . . . Still, that breathless pause.
     At last, the ball floats toward the building's brick chin. Grey faces break into butterfly grins.

Image: HSS.