It Is Always The Pain That Writes.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

they think that
it is a little paranoia that is always on the go
for catching cold
and some words, for wishing about death
and destruction of the
self,

it is not, because pain has always been there
and no matter how you put the pesticides to kill it,
or antivirals, or antibiotics to cure the wounds,
or no matter how you try to remove it and
severe it,
with a knife or hammer


it will always be there
like your whole skin holding all your body parts

it is always there
like a world spinning holding everything
from cloud to
seaweed

to pebble to single cells
to all those molecules
and atoms,

smaller and
so minute, escaping our
further notice

we think they are gone
until they pinch us again
like the first snow flake of winter
in old London.