departure,
a rush of people
escaping
the narrow door
bursting on the
road
towards home
you are here
with no place to go
the home
has turned into a mere house
plain stairs
with closed door
unwashed window panes
the lawn a stranger
to mowers
the dusts live here
and some
wishbones crushed
by a black dog
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem