# 9 Poem by B. Sven Telander

For years the waiting queue denied fine ablutions
for vague prizes from a thief and a giver,
animated vocally with damnation grin’s absolution
in blustering song with substance a thin sliver;
wisdom found wanting in vessels acute
that sail external waters longing for noble bastion
of righteous kings with grasp on eternal minute
and flourishing power over killers of the question;
conjuring rules and hierarchy so bluntly sublime
creating a nemesis for the loving masses to abhor
paying tomorrow’s dues in a shrieking pantomime
and an unknown tollkeeper their soul murderers adore-
too fearful to recall what was bought or bartered
when that lonely dark crowd’s black flight was chartered.