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Kurt Philip Behm
Poems
May 2019
Death's Quota
The flowers all have scattered,
borrowed feelings cry out loud
Mock funeral of celebration,
grief false beneath their shrouds
The mourning congregation,
to the tavern marched in step
A ruse to the departed,
with each toast his memory wept
His friends then hugged his enemies,
his wife and girlfriend kissed
Through the glass a raven watches,
taking names without a miss
A ‘last call’ shouted boldly,
and all glasses drained of lies
As two wings beat out a roll call
—death’s quota flying high
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
Written by
Kurt Philip Behm
kurtphilipbehm.com
(kurtphilipbehm.com)
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