We can start with how Giles Hart a Telecom worker was

a militant for equality who died at Tavistock Square – for

reasons that his leader, one Tony Blair did not explain

but equally a man for whom his bombers didn't care. The

shrapnel took cashiers and engineers – it took Sahara Islam,

a Bangladeshi maid just 20; Shyanuja Parathasangary 20 plus

of the Royal Mail office; Gladys Wundowa from Ghana who

had to wipe the University College's engineering rooms quite

clean; or a Sam Ly, whose IT job was pukka new or Anthony

Fatayi-Williams whose work on offshore was quite old; or

Phillip Russell 28, from west London who was late for work

at JP Morgan; and Anat Rosenberg, 29, a charity worker from

Israel; And William Wise? And city worker Jamie Gordon at

30 or Mr Colin Morley 52, from Finchley in north London?

Or it can be done sequentially:

Susan Levy, 53, was the first, Ojara Ikeagwu,

from Luton, social worker, 55, was close behind.

How do we write in a way that creates an

onomastics to approximate the incendiary,

the horror of blasts, bombs and mayhem?

What is the closest to the aftermath of a word-bomb

or what Breytenbach once named as a pomegranade?

Bring in the forensic linguists to decipher this –

in London, in Gaza, in Karachi, in Mumbai.

To die gold dye and tattoo a Polish Stan at 27 Baisden the

Afghani; whether who worked young man on his way or a

language student Sharifi in the tube like Phil and what of a

highway from Turkey between King's Cross with a lip stud to

conference like Lee or Attique and Russell square, like Ciaran

at 24 at Aldgate; a Baptist deacon or visitor or an accountant

like James Brandt mortgages and Chung Beer Gamze into

Adams from Mauritius like Brewster engineer Yuen Gunoral

or even another such a young accountant, or a colourful

young hairdresser, manning shops Cassidy like Ania.

Or worse because each onomastic referent has

become shard and mixed with another:

To die gold dye and tattoo a Polish Spaeno at 27 Thner the

Afghani;