Sucked out of denim and
cotton, half in running
flat over the bedroom floor,
skinless like a cartoon cat,
somebody I knew yesterday;
an underarm stainer; a tracer,
a schlepper of ballast
hidden in layers; now magicked away
as I sleep as a pink filling,
ready to meet myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem