11: 37 A.m.

autumn
from the Four Seasons

the violins are
crying like mourning women
all for the honor of the death
of a revolutionary

who loved them all equally
and gave them
all the children that they all
deserve

after the funeral the women
talk
and they all agree that all
in the name of love
is forgiven

that betrayal and deceit
only exist in war
that it is love
that can only thrive
in their lust
and passion that what they remember most of all is only

the kiss
lingering still in their tongues and throats and
parting teeth

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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