when he sits beside her
she knows what she wanted
him
and she pretends that she is just
nothing but a girl
whose hands are small and so fragile
and he of course
will be tender to any kind of girl like
her
but she is more than a girl now that
he must know
she knows where to touch him
and tell him
you are sitting beside this
woman
he must take a look some more
her eyes are not innocent
he will remember the eyes
of the woman
who slept in bed with him
last night
this smell that she has stolen
this smell
of a woman, now she looks at him again
lingering
if he still sees the same little girl
whose hands he thought
are innocent
and so fragile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem