A Sketch Of What Familiarity And Routine Is All About Poem by RIC BASTASA

when she arrives in my house
that early morning
she was more silent than
the grass that is still jeweled
with dew
there is still that sense of
strangeness
like a bird from the forest
that is still feeling its new cage
she had three to five days
her feet studying the floors and stairs
her hands groping the blankets
and pillows in the bed and
room
the books in the library included
there are conversations going on
to the different parts of the house and garden
until she has become a part to all of them
and then
she sits on the grass and
lays her body in bed
ofter spending more time reading
the titles of the books
she has the best time dining
until she holds control
and laughs the hardest
disturbing the peace of the neighbors

it is the familiarity
and perhaps too much of it like an alcoholic drink
that makes her lose
what is important
she gets drunk and
unmanageable

on the fifth day and it was a Sunday
she left us without a word at around 3 a.m.
when all the members of the house were all tired and asleep
she left a note: she does not deserve to stay
in this ordered universe
she is a random incident of a dice,
she is a woman unnumbered
a bird not fit for a cage
a dog without a leash
a speck of dust owned by no wind
we do not mention her name during that lonely breakfast