© 2017 Vernon Miles Kerr
You, granule that broke my tooth,
You grain of wheat the miller missed,
You minuscule monster of dental destruction,
You are more than just my own tormentor:
You are scion to granules who tormented nations,
Who were packed into granaries and held for ransom
Until the starving heaped gold at the door,
Birthing Earthly economics.
Your progenitors rode along in the kits of conquering marauders,
Extending the murderous range of despots,
Who then flattened forests for fields,
Replaced the sylvan for the urban,
The pastoral for pollution,
And conscripted the peaceful hunter
To wield scythe and sword.
And you, looking so smug
Between my thumb and forefinger,
Have only broken a tooth.