In Hiding Poem by RIC BASTASA

defense mechanisms.
coping up machines.
lies and deceptions.
covering up. conceal.

a little fish hides under
a big stone on that deep sea
amidst the friendly anemones

a big shark is coming
and the electric eel is taken
exposed, confident, dead.

we hide. There is a reason
for hiding sometimes. For retreats
in the mountains in secret
convents with the nuns. In secret
hideouts with the monks.
In tunnels dug for surrenders
like this. To survive.

when things get rough
and i am not that rough enough for the
roughness that gets going, i choose

to hide underneath a strong
floor, inside a closet, under
a cabinet of folded clothes.

the sense are not too strong
to survive a crash. I hide. I take
cover. I make poems. My poems
are my shelters of the scorching
sun, the heavy rain, the flood and
earhtquakes of my life.

i am shaken. But look, i am in tack.
My bones rattle but unbroken.

The poems are my fortress.
The big shark is coming again.
Let me hide. Under a rock.