In the master bedroom
above the bed, just to the right
of where I usually sleep
there is a dent in the wall
The clock whose corner
matches the dent
can no longer be found.
Just a memory of fury
unleashed on a clock
and a wall.
The scar on two hearts
words flung like a clock
Hearts bruised like a wall
When hell is in the ring
nobody wins
just two beaten fighters
holding the ropes
praying tomorrow comes soon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Boy, don't I know it! The dent left by a flung clock is a telling detail. When anger steps into the ring, a considerable number of precious moments are thrown away.