Driving over a hill
we saw a blackbird
circling wildly
panicking
it might have been screaming
bursts of red
beat through its wings
and as our car sped past
there on the pavement
was the mate
flattened
stiff feathers fluttering
and then they were behind us
and I saw my own hand
resting on your thigh
not a word between us
(first published in The Wallace Stevens Journal,1998)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem