When a cruise ship
is about to lose
its broken sail
and linesmen
become tired and weary
and its capt’n
looks at the deep blue sea
with cataract eyes
with sailors awaiting his call
there will be a moment’s cry
like gurgling water
rushing down main outlet
into a sewer
into an acoustic tunnel
coursing along
where scavenging mice
feast on putrid licorice
and this cry
will echo without tears
far out in turbulent waves
‘cause the ship’s capt’n
loses his direction
just like he’s about
to lose his ship.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem