My teeth are humid:
The highway is high, licking the heels of the sun;
And I have had you in bed,
And then I went under her and bought your dresses from
The flea market which you will
Never wear,
Alma;
And I remember your brown skin and jet lag:
And I am sweating out of my skull,
While I sleep with my dog, because you are not here:
My entire house is empty and I am on the floor
Trying to swim,
Because you didn’t cry when I left you, Alma,
But you wrapped your body around me and looked at the
Dying roses I had bought for you,
While the waves rolled up wagging their tongues at
The doorstep I keep for you,
Hoping that you will invite my entire family to fill in my
Soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem