On reading the poem by Suzan Jarvis and her reflection on William C. Williams' poem
Them plumbs about
which you write
were ‘haps something
other than what's thought.
Cause in the West
they might just be
something collected
from other than a tree.
An if they were
a bit red and undone
it's possible they'd
be better left alone.
For the critter that gave
them up
certainly never intended
them for your sup.
(Of course Williams being from New Jersey, may not have know the difference.)
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem