He wants to do certain things
he should have done before old
age and illness reaped their harvest.
The doctor gives him days
perhaps a week to breathe
but he can’t remember what
he wanted to do before Monsanto
hired him as master chef to
prepare and serve prey.
The firm still raves about his work
in Vietnam where Agent Orange
remains first marinade today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem