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.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: chains,food
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8/28/2026 6:46:15 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
