Socrates.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is nice, he did it
well, the word gnat becomes
a real gnat, and the tail
gives way to a parody,
and there Socrates stood,

he knows his ways to
another reality, the gnat smells
like a gnat, and it sounds
like it is flying and the tail
begins to whip, and then

the tale is woven and we are
there stultified having spent
most the much needed time,

we smell gnats, we hear flying,
we face Socrates, and then
just like the way it ended
a long time ago, we all mourned
for the loss of a great man,
and we call him beloved.