..The Horror That You Have Already Mastered.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

to repeat, remember when we once
met, years ago, facing the sun setting as we
have nothing to offer but our silence,

that golden silence which we take pride of
because it healed us, for we were sick and then
no one was telling for fear that we be taken into
that isolated island where only shadows live

i have nothing to say as always. I live with my mouth
shut. It is like mama's door and the only noise was when papa
kicked it to force it open because he wanted to keep the family
whole

never mind, that is not what i want to recall,
i am here. The rain just stopped. Someone has arrived singing
trying to please the house for whatever it is worth.

i am not myself but i no telling the wall.
it has scattered ears on the floor.

sometimes actually you write to kill the hours.
and you kill the hours because you cannot kill anybody
at least for now.

the murder is done. Now you feel comfortable. Unlike everybody
else, who by their most normal selves, feel the horror which
you have already mastered.