The Choir Of Buttons.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the night is sinful.
that is their word
and you are saying it
like a parrot.

the night was actually
a titillating memory
of you and love and affection.
headaches are gone.
the arms function well today.
nerves are back in their
proper places
like a trip to Jerusalem.

the night is full
and the mouth must not speak.
the night was cold
warmed by hands.
the night was a memory
written in barks
carved in stones.

if you finally wish
to live alone in that house
let it be.
i know what is in your heart now.
full of love
and satisfied with longing.

the sun is up
the sands are white
the foams are lovely
the island is quiet.

we come here to be silent.
loud noise is that sin.
a crowded room is hell.
and the demons keep drinking.

the angel shells are hidden
underneath the sands
their tongues come
wave after wave.

we are looking for those
depths.
we have learned how to swim
how to float and how to be alone
at last.

past is past.
there is no use digging for those
treasures.
let the door of the cave be closed.
forget abracadabra.
listen to the song of the button
right there on the side of your
shirt
the choir of buttons on the trousers of
your memories.