We have a forecast for echoing
Like homeless people wishing that they could
Be inside of their cars,
As the iguanas exfoliate in the rock garden
And Romero watches the horses:
He is in love with his cousin in Mexico,
But the fires are out in Arizona- the sea is a blue
Snail blazing into another sea:
The slow echoing of the tortoises underneath the
Broken down school buses- the long sad
Drifts that cannot drink a tank of gas:
The land is flat like her chest as she straddled
Me one last time across the fields of Thermopolis:
There she is an ancient goddess driving in a
Minivan, her soft young legs so brown and tan
And going up and down or anyway that they can:
And kissing the sun,
And killing dogs- she rides around like a brown
Forest that all the butterflies go to release their
Poisons and so to go an die,
To flood again like cheerleaders coming outside
Of school buses, like beams from a lighthouses
Searching across the gymnasiums of the most
Ungodly of seas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem