from the custom official's desk
waybills here and form F451 therethe piles sliding slightly
out of alignment with the true and narrow
sepia traces of the coffee commando ghouls
don't feed them after midnight
and wrap them safely in tarpaulins
muffled past the pool of reading lamplight
the clong and screeching of shipping containers
square forms pushed into their tetris slots
a bite from a cinnamon doughnut, circle broken
they are shipping spices now
and dried fish from the desert valleys
by Roman taxation peppar panthers and eunuchs
spice up some other people's lives
all neatly printed in block letters
the eternal lives of Egyptians used up
like sea gull guano and compacted dinosaurs
a boost for luxury produce and high yields
all boxed compressed and squared away
and it's not your fault is it?
you just arranged the transportation
Poetry by Katarina Wikholm
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Written on 2016-09-18 at 11:00
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Lawrence Beck |
josephus |
Katarina Wikholm |
one trick pony |