The glimmering carcass of losing touch,
lay prostrate on the floor,
unable to pick itself up, despite kind gestures.
Half my blood hovered beside me,
in another life, my daughters,
but I didn’t know it.
All physical symptoms displayed a stranger,
as she stepped over the body with no regard,
dressed in clothes I’d bought,
spouting my expressions,
likes, hates, intolerances.
But this lost friend had gained Superman’s shield,
untouchable, do anything-able, go anywhere-able,
and I was kryptonite, some old green rock,
to be avoided.
As she headed off with her reporter pad,
Lois Lane glint, and a worrying
‘gonna fly now’, I wondered how long,
that cape would hold her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem