you were up there
like my Rapunzel
with that long golden
hair lonely on the
tower
meanwhile i do not
bother doing a jack in
Jill
where there are no hills
and pail
well well well
it is still in the mind
still
this is it
another imagining
in the glass house
where you live
i cannot imagine
stones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem