Killing white daisies-
penniless loafers at
camp wilderness.
So proud he was.
His two front teeth
bent inward. I'm sorry,
he said.
I hate the backwash of
his bite and how it latched
onto me, the one with open ears and mind,
the one temporarily blind.
My worshipping tongue:
what he said I said
in exact detail.
I did trap our moment filled with life-
like a legless human saying
he believed in a caring god.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem