the passion
that was just recently shown
boils my blood
evaporates my whole
being into the open
space of the room and
hangs itself in the
ceiling of this lettered
room
behaving like a bat
the point of view is
that which
turns this world upside
down
sometimes the slippers
need it
becoming not just shoes
but bats
black reputation
infamy at its worst
this vileness in all of
us
always kept hidden
as though
a precious gem....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem