a picture has fallen off the wall,
broken glass as water in a pool,
the late sun steals the tint
from a bronzed arm, standing air
tense and stretched
with the threat of shattered light,
petals sicken and harden
and limp like crippled lovers,
buried leaves crawl into roots
curled like parchment, a garden
of open mouths, yellow toothed and begging;
faithless ghosts uneasy over dull clay:
a day granular in frozen time,
the moon hidden under the earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Loved the imagery in this poem the sense of a time on the cusp of change BB : O)