Gone already, forever?
Well, I wanted forever.
Souvenirs
in scrapbooks and drawers-
bare bones, evidence
of failure:
ticket stubs to the opera
'La Traviata; ' I wish it had been Wagner.
I could have been with you that much longer.
Others-one whole,
one torn-from the show
I saw alone.
There's a picture in may wallet.
A friend, a woman, told me
that being there
is 'really making it.'
I don't dare remove it.
I don't want to see it.
I do, actually, but
looking at your image
smiling, hair
falling over shoulders,
holding the son
I never had,
won't bring you any nearer, nor
put you any farther, and
it's as close
as I ever got
to you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How profound and deeply touching, the words are eloquent with intensity of emotion.