It Only Happens Once
The last poem arrived
by morning
and caused no reaction
It entered by the door
said "good morning"
and sat comfortably
on a soft chair
announced "I am the last poem"
and no one doubted
no one answered
no one stopped the work
to read it
or appreciate it
It opened a book from Pessoa
took a coffee with a lot of sugar
smoked a cigar
and kept waiting
until it faded
and become lost
The last poem arrived
not like death
but the way some lives pass;
with no one noticing.
Patricia Evans
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