Comparative to the structure of your eyes:
Bending back, brown-stemmed visions of places
Lactating in the milkweeds,
Feeding the big-lipped minnows—
Switch-back from the dens of housewives,
Hidden away with the jewels of extinct Indians:
Somewhere around here,
A latchkey child,
A lost love—an almost thing—
New abbreviations in the spring, and her words
Are gone from the indistinct pages
I could never find the words to fill
But heard them like the residue of visions that
Had already come and gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem