In A Poppy Field Of Words Poem by Margaret Kollmer

Somewhere in a very tall building
where nations are judged
by the company they keep,
a clenched hand with ink-filled gun
drives a collision course
across an empty page.

Real men and TV heroes
have grappled with death
and emerged victorious.
But no Kojak, I!
Unpacified I wait -
aware of the transparent camouflage
of official seals
and the thinness of
politicians' smiles
as bullet-like their chameleon tactics
take aim and strike target
and ricochet into
a poppy field of words.