In a circle of 12 winter trees
I'm hunched
Remembering being fled from
—Who gave me this wool sweater?
So it please you life, we won't go alone—
Next year will be better.
Remember that white tree?
The white underpaint of the government.
The country of bone.
In memory of Michael Brown
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem