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Call Me Idiot
a word from you,
and i will remember it,
on this
elephantine memory,
idiot, you call me idiot,
and i shall retort for once
but not twice, not anymore
shall i become
another image of you,
i dread.
i will not call you moron,
but i shall be in my room again
alone
on an array of oxymora
talking to the drapes and the drawers
burying all these
humiliations, and putting a stop
to my fears,
i will see the dancing chairs
and hug the lovely pillows,
hide beneath my blankets,
i promise myself, i will have a nice sleep
and inside my dream
i shall write the most beautiful poem in my life.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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