Late bloomers in the river
Where your brother drowned;
Water flowers, ballerinas of
Corkless furry, and each girl loves
A new man,
Winnowing fingers spread like curtains
Underneath the ceiling fans
The perfect tributaries repose together
In a sorority’s cemetery,
Across the canal where the eternal
Garden smokes, crenellating like
Water snakes the places beneath the billboards
Where the living proceed through their
Cars,
But they cannot find me because I have skipped
School;
They are not even looking for me,
As the cats slink through the hand smoothed stones,
Laughing because they have so many lives
But not so many names.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem