I overheard a joke in a map,
burned my ears with snowdrops.
I didn’t understand the language of her laughter,
mouth shook like a pigeon feather,
telling a poem with only one word.
Reading a Russian-English dictionary,
writing a letter,
a girl opened her raspberry tea stained lips;
stumbling over the translation of kiss.
She didn’t notice me inside her pencil,
reading about her ancient city,
waiting to bite the music off her teeth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.