Final Call Poem by Bengt O Björklund

Final Call



Colliding carelessly with
salty wood words of winter
black crows with feathery bets
beat all collectors to the meltdown.

Food is the final curtain call
before precious predator curtains
fangs their vicious way down
all chains of possible peace.

Ordinary oxygen is more
than just a breath.
Tuition so much more
than just coercion.

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