Shalom Hotel Poem by RIC BASTASA
Shalom Hotel
the body
is still trying
to feel
home in that
bed
the room is
a stranger
that does not
speak
as one tries
to strike
a conversation.
the air conditioning
is like a
bee buzzing its
way to
nowhere.
the table
or the ceiling
the floor
or the door
which way to
freedom?
same question
i had been
posing for years
to this
corner of this
wonderful
world that i
am still
trying to spell
out correctly
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 2:15:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
