It's midday outside a brothel
Pacing through the alleyway
Sunlight is cloaked in shadows
Of brick tenements
Concealing the afternoon.
The steam and humidity
Is foul
And it wears away
the chintzy wallpaper
Wheezing
Leaving a stench in its wake
Of unresolved grievances
And debts unpaid
And immodest graces
And I want to call my grandmother
And my mom
And my sister
And My daughter
And tell them
It's all okay
Everything
Is okay
Even though
It isn't
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The metaphor and imagery in this poem so superbly displays a wealth of emotions. It put me right smack into the middle of Kerouac's brilliant novella, TRISTESSA. Matt, this is very fine writing. Really enjoyed reading your poem!
Thank you so much, Richard. Very high praise to be out in the same sentence of a writer of that calibre. That is a novel I really do need to get a hold of!