" The Germs Of War "

Walls and fences are full of suspicions.........their very names
make it so
Fenced in, walled up, I breathe in the perfume of
disenchantment
For this atmosphere is not a perfume.........but a breeding ground
for the germs of war.........yet unborn
It has no taste through distillation..........it is odorless
and molds for years
before it's spores are air-born..........and ripened enough
to be considered deadly intent
or the beaded sweat..........on the belly of a hot dancer
Where soldiers..........following orders.........have a waltz with her
and her political whispers
become the rumors..........that dry her sweat
and are later considered
the spoils of war...........which are then fenced in
and walled up............behind the armor
of the vault of government
where simple suspicions
are always
probable cause.......

Tony Taylor   (Chicago)