The Consequence... Poem by RIC BASTASA

she spends most of her time
(she does not know perhaps that it has
been shortened)
building a new house
choosing the landscape of her new cottage
at the Mediterranean territory

had some chosen lovers to sleep with
on those lonely nights (and she will still have more
than enough, she giggles)
drunk more, laughed louder than before
everything seems to be funny
and the wit keeps flowing from the gutters
and canals of her
pastimes

that following dawn
it was so cold
(her last, i tell you)

before the first fighting cock in the
fenced house cocks

she lies there
breathless....

slashed throat, bathing with
her own sticky drying blood

alone

and even those walls and
soft expensive bed do not give the clue

as to who
and why.