394 Poem by RIC BASTASA
394
incense, sweat
flower-scent and
candle smoke
and yes, burnt good years
charred goodbyes
mortar fire
rotten hellos
and tear gas
earthy tobacco
from cigars lit
in a four-star mouth
stench of fear
the smell of terror
from a furious horde
reeking of dying heroes
of these domestic wars
and splattered brains
of us
poets
the ones
whom you do not
know
the ones whom you
do not notice
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4/25/2024 5:46:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
