My Only Garden Poem by RIC BASTASA

i did a painting
years ago using
two colors only:
red for the buildings
and black for the smoke
there are no windows
no roads

those who watched it
thought that the
buildings are fire
and hence the black smoke
emitting all the pollution
inside the room

no one died

but i wished there were
they should have been
asphyxiated by the
ugliness of the system
i wanted more black smoke
to choke the space
left by the numbness
of the occasion

the room was breathing

i realized i was angry
paranoid about what should
come clean in the future

it was me who was dying
and so i left the room creating
a space for myself
outside

there you are
my only garden.