under the hotel

marquez the great
caught me in his grip
of brilliant prose

of dusty bones and the gold of centuries
of dignitaries lost to the ruin of time
pickaxe busy on the tombs
moving the rested
tearing apart the foundation
of culture of church and terror

bulldozers moved in then
wiping all trace
readying the hollowed ground
for first class comfort
distracted tourists
unaware that the tombs
once rested below their feet
now gone
the bones of centuries