..Where The Black Birds Begin To Fly... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the one you married
loves you more than you do
and you know it too well
from the very first day

you never change
suspicious of all people
not trusting
because of the past pains

in the crowd you are always
alone
in the house you feel the
same
as dinner is served as wine
is drank
as food is consumed as guests
leave

in bed you make love like
everyone
the gasps and gaps are still
there as usual
exhausted you take yourself
into sleep carrying you
to the recesses of your mind
into the depths of your
angry past


you wake up sweating for the
truth
journeying again into the labyrinths
of what you still do not know
until you arrive at a certain
dead-end

and it is here where you sit and talk
to yourself again
beside a wall
under the sky where black birds
begin to fly.