Another aimless day in suburb land
Joining the dots of hours
The whine of next door’s baby
The vroom of a passing Honda
Pass for birdsong.
Mrs Domeracki pegs out washing
Onto a whirlie which wheels
In impotent circles, going nowhere
Mr Domeracki slumps in his chair
Like pre-erectile man
Tonight he will go through the motions
Of coitus, bringing the bedsprings nearer
To ultimate stress
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem