Tired of yelling
the same old Christian songs
through an open window.
My arms outstretched
embracing midnight and stars.
Never wanting to come back
to this day waking three times:
rising in the night
and descending into Hell.
The night astray with an urn near my bed
waiting for me…
as balconies have railings made of bone;
And a nameless stone in a graveyard
jiggles as an unsightly tooth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem