all these rusty things,
door knobs, and keys
spoons and
tin plates
gates of iron and
lamp posts
the stove that mother
used
the knife that father kept
rust that smells
failures
and falling and
hitting
the bottom of the truth
the one that sinks
and settles
making you see all those passing
moments
rusting relationships
sour or salty feelings
you jerk
for the first time but you cannot just jerk and jerk forever
no one must tremble permanently
one relaxes
and the only way to do it with
full respect is just to leave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem