Children
She carries
A mountain as her butt
Two similar ones, breasts
With her tummy skin bag
And legs leafless branches
Dragged on the ground
To take her to her solitude
There she had confessed:
“It was hard for me to find a man! ”
And went on:
“With this round crumbled face
And this piece of meat as nose
And this invisible neck…and…”
Behind her few round balls roll
As her children…
Listener questioned with complaint:
“Then why are you cruel to them? ”
Meaning was clear…”they are similar.”
She stared in the nowhere-ness of a dot
Took some time before she replied:
“Don’t know…maybe love…maybe…”
She stopped; tears talked.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem