To make love without love is easy
Physical jerks and spasms
Cracking a match to flame
Like a puppet propelled by lust
Even in the act of closest union
(The clue's in the sentence)
You remain alone
With the stars, the moon
The surmountable constellations
The lover, the bed, the night
As necessary in their time
As food to the starved stomach
The lover enters the womb
As a visitor soon to depart
Crossing the border of selves
On a temporary visa
Now my breasts are ruined
My face a slab
No-one will come to lay themselves
On the altar of my body
Only the undertaker
Attentive as a magpie
Will brush my hair and touch me
At the last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem