River roared
I was in West Island, Montreal, in Quebec
Talked to me St. Lawrence
This long and, sometimes wide soft river
Intimate…two of us…
On it waves like my pains, were the ducks…stupid
One female found a thing
A light red cylinder; aimed for shore
Other came…a female…greedy and jealous…
As if a concubine of the past, and still, a first wife…
River roared
After boat raced, hurried
Crossed, my upset eyes …
Changed focal.
River’s mouth
Full of air that stunk
River’s pain
Must have laid
For too long, very long
If the pain is kept deep
If too long is inside
Stomach is upset
Pain is shit
It stinks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem