Upon Visiting A Dying Woman In The Hospital At Room 108 Poem by RIC BASTASA

actually the barbecue
is more than what it appears to be
its scent of meat
and the hotness of the spice
and delicacy of
the sauce
it is the front of something
that is hidden
there is something behind its shape
and odor
i cannot speak to you about it
so i offer you that
pork barbecue
i know that hunger that
does not want to be fed
time fills that
grief
that cannot be appeased

the barbecue is cold
set aside in one of the corners
of the table
grease is solidified
no one
not one from those who see
the emaciated body
of the dying woman
wants to take
the bite

someone does
but eventually there is that
obstruction in the
throat
and so the tongue
expels that piece
of pork barbecue
again

what a waste!
yet we can never voice
this matter out

the eyes speak a lot
but you know then
they have no voices