What Imagination Does After Reading Your Poem About The Amaranth.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

this pen that i am holding
is black
it turns into a snake once
i leave it
and then after we sleep
and drink tea at the veranda
facing the sunset
i go back to where i left it
to find it again

and it turns into a pen again
black and inanimate and i imagine
it as a tool that i shall use
against you

white paper which turns into
a floor of an eggshell where
anything delicate which i have
kept as memories for years

and which i have not yet fully
grasped shall be laid and
written.

you who sips tea with me shall
become my mind
thinking about what i am not
and which after a thorough
sifting i shall accept as my
oblivion.