yes, the news is spread by her
poetess of the northern skies
her book is just out of the oven
buttered bread, glossy topping
i can smell the scent of her poems
and soon i must touch it
shall my brain afford the luxury of
her metaphors? the sharpness of her wits?
shall i write her for a free copy
and tell her that it is the best poetry that i have ever read
in my entire life?
given a chance to decide which to take
fried chicken or toasted poetry?
you bet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem