Excuse me.
What?
Pointless anger laid
waste in the barrel of
a human bin is
like
watching a fly stuck to its
kid.
I’ve been pretending
to be the selected,
the fly has no face
and the day is simmering.
You who think who
always act to gain
an electron thought,
a gas of opinion
sifted under the door –
into the room, breathe it in
breathe it in.
But do not breathe because
to breathe is a sin.
And nettles pierce
what they wish to sting,
the green complication
of hatred and anger has leaked
in –
both broke me in.
I’m the smashed window
you pass everyday
but give no thought towards.
It can’t speak
only cut and shred the skin.
Breathe it in.
Eat the ice
of anger. The paper;
bring it in! Bring it in!
Throw it in the bin;
enter it.
Entertain it.
Whisper into it’s ear and tell it:
you won’t settle for anything less
than perfect.
Mary X.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem