That Corrupt Woman

what i hear this
morning is about the news of her
disorientation

she repeats the names of
those who left her

over and over again
she keeps asking for her
pills

she has aches all over her
body

when she goes to the doctor
the latter finds nothing
wrong

it is the apathy of her soul
the Furies are pulling her hair
and breaking her every bone

bad karma is the knife that slices
every portion of her skin

she will be returned home
now there is no cure

she will speak in ciphers
that she herself cannot understand

there is pain everywhere
but there is no visible wound

she finds no comfort in air
she is grasping for breath

she tears her own clothes
and roams naked in her mansion

her children are asking her
but her answers are dumb.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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