Your love is heavy
like a cinder-block.
It slips through my hands
when I pick it up
like a liquid rock.
It hauls me up
to the sun and up
then hurls me down-
Rolls me in spit, then
dusts me with scorn.
Up one wave I slide
then slip down,
then up, then down,
to find my nets torn
empty and drowned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love and good love, good write, thanks.