Hours after I'd resigned myself to watching the fireworks on TV
and seen the aftermath of the Iranian embassy bombing in Beirut,
blatant or surreal,
one shortened-sleep night,
days after the beginning of cockroach season
(no I'm not in Sydney) ,
a star became the horns of a deer,
and the direct inspiration for the title,
just after I'd been lying standing guard
wondering if it might even be a mouse
eating its way down the hall
towards the 1 piece of short-cut bacon
that became recidivist-vegetarian me
saying, 'There will be no more dark-time nitrate pyrotechnics
inside my closed eyelids
I will throw out the other 3'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem