They heard about a death
in the family.
Talking stopped
when they saw him.
Stopped. As if
death were contagious.
Or cancer. Or grief.
Pretended
not to see him
coming
sometimes
veered discreetly
across the street.
He put the phone
on voice mail.
Could hear the relief
when they left
their brief condolences.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem