Your face swims like
a myth.
Night spreads the veil
of a cloud on the
white breast of moon.
No family. Words
move in different tacks.
Water heals, when
your feet were sore.
Soya beans. You have roasted
them alive in jumpsuits.
The faith becomes a devil.
The black eye
waits for the rain to
wash the racial smudge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Trepanation allowed the brain to bloom like an amaryllis after a brush fire. The pressure of which card to play. The suicide Jack beats anything without a face. Light from the east breaks in waves over the angles of the cheekbones. That blush of love. Of life.