Making Lvoe With Her Own Bed

you are just near me
but between us is a door
and between that door
is another door, and so
when you say a word
i have to figure out what
you really mean,

when i open the door
there is a glass wall and
i thought it was you
humming,

it is cold tonight
i am closing a window
out there
i see a black bird perched
upon a branch,

it is cold and i am shutting
myself for any
kind of significance like

what if the bird dies?
what if the bird is you
disguised as a bird?

tonight i cannot sleep
something bothers me
all these thoughts bother me
there is no note
that you are coming back
from that long trip
away from home

was it Sarah who said
that she is making love with her bed?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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