A Boring Issue About A Demise.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

somehow the fear of
our end
becomes too familiar and boring
it occurring
almost daily when we are flogged
like donkeys
as we carry our loads of bricks

death gets boring sometimes
like that same movie that we watch
all the days of the week

when we finally meet it in the street
or in the room
you say nothing at all

it's not a pest, it is just an ordinary dust
a tiny frog that gets inside your room from nowhere

you pick it up and say alright
'i have no right to refuse, take me, i am ready'