Worn Out Poem by RIC BASTASA

last night after the usual
three-hour lecture of the law
i arrive late in the house
without the lights on

it is a blackout of some
metaphors
but the heart has been
numbed
and the mind has been
shut out
from having any contact
with any object
of affection

the hands open the car
and the feet move on
to the room
where the bed waits

it is dark in here
and the window is closed
and the air is thin
and the walls are damp
with all the
mildews still clinging
on the white tiles of
the bathroom

as though in a trance
i have thrown all the books
on the dusty floor
and without having to remove
my shirt
and pants and socks
and shoes

i retreat to the nooks
of a very sound sleep
i must have been dreaming
hearing my own
snore