No Supper Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

No Supper

Round as a planet, dark as the galaxy
the interior looked like the last battle in Verdun
the early spring of 1914.
It had been a healthy preparation of carrots, beans
turnips, potatoes and meat.
Scorched earth tactic nothing was salvageable.
There had been warnings but human insouciance
ignored the smell emitting filling rooms
with the bitterness of a failed supper.
The last question is, can the frying pan be saved?