Upon A Day Of Reckoning

it is always i

who cleans the table from
morsels
who throws away the trash
of what is unconsumed from
the kettle

it is always i

who wipes the spilled milk
on the floor
who takes all the shit
on the sink
who kills all the bedbugs
on the pillow

it is always i

and on the day of reckoning
the table and chairs will be smooth
and glossy

the windows look to the other side without blinking
the door shall be mute forever
the hinges and frames all numb
on the last slamming.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!