Funeral Blues Toronto 2011
Turn out all the lights, cut off support to the wading pools.
Prevent the library from opening with free subway newspapers
Silence the advocates and with muffled drum
Bring out the Budget, let the mourners come.
Let citizens circle warning the watershed
Shouting the message “Our City is dead”
Put Ferris wheels round malled harbours of monorails
Let workmen downsize as safety fails.
Gaze to our North, the South, our East and West,
Our working week and our Sunday rest
Our noon, Our midnight, our talk, our song;
We thought our town would last forever, we were wrong.
The Star is not wanted now; throw out every one,
Pack up the Globe, the Post and dismantle the Sun.
Tear away the commons and gather the tents;
For nothing now can ever make sense.
With Apologies to Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-1973)