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There are times

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Mon Sep 26th, 2016

There are times when to love the calls of birds

Becomes a crime worse than theft or incest;

When hills and valleys described in fleet words

Evoke anger of a wrathful tempest.


For fifteen years bombs in Afghanistan

Have been bursting on bright poppies and children

Of that rugged, craggy, mountainous land,

And grateful for what they have been given


In way of this generous allowance

They’ve had the gall to decline our request

For the total absolute governance

Of their country, creating a contest


Wherein they retain substantial portion

Of opiates, denying us our run

At righteous monopoly through the gun

To retain safe world-wide distribution


For people like you who in hospital

Lay stricken in bed with old-age cancer:

Victimized, overcharged for billable

Medications like drip morphine for your


Road to the bright mythical hereafter

Located in an imaginary

Landscape of blooming poppies wherever

Darkness offers some cheerful company.