The Last Item..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

building another house
is diversionary tactic
as life's sands fall slowly
towards its drastic end.

your attention will be
caught between this wall and
that wall, that railing and
another, from one stair to
another, one room, a kitchen
which by its tradition, gives
you a sense of what a smoke is.
the scent of roasted meat,
and removal of fish scales,
and burnt wood, and rushing
water from the pipe. And into
the sale where you will put
again the old pictures of
those who already left you.
perhaps, what is more divesting
is the picture of a baby and
the mother, beside it, a crib,
a gun, and newspaper. Which of
course leads you back, takes you
back for all those well founded
fears. You imagine where to put
the cage of a parakeet, the music
box, the rattler, the guitar,
those dancing shoes, and the last
one, which you keep by heart but
which you can not tell for now.