Always, After Something, Comes A Void Poem by RIC BASTASA

always, after something is done,
a word written
on paper, filling in the blank sheet
with something, there is always that
void, which comes next, asking

why? and telling you
there is still something left out there
and you must look for it

a pin? a button, or a lock of hair
things getting smaller
than your nail and you
try to voice it out

tonight? No. Tomorrow morning.
No. At dawn when everything is
silent and you have all the power
to think, and grope and
dig and crawl into the recesses
of your brain.

write me, write me, i am almost
dead. Says the letters scattered
on your bed.

you want to sleep. They fly like
fireflies above your face
and they dance in circles.

you are tired. Your eyes
close like the rock that
kept the dead body
of Christ.

yes. at 3 a.m. again.
leave me.