Her neck had the smell of an opium flower,
and she danced with the grace of a Mexican child.
Her lovers would gamble their hearts on the hour
she would brave the frontier for American wilds.
Oh, they would wait in the wings to fly south,
always coming up broke because love is a place
where you’ll fall asleep safe and wake up lost.
Oh, yes you will.
So I awoke in relief in a Texas commune,
where Christians prayed for my soul to return,
they danced in circles all round the room
rejoicing for Jesus is coming back soon,
to take all of the sadness out of their lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
How you mix the ethereal with the rawness of reality! Wonderfully worded, Thomas. Love, Fran xx