When did she lose herself after shop class
And maybe barefoot in the crown of thorns in some part
Of the off centered diamond
In the landscaping of middle school:
Where she went to instead of going to lunch is where
She has always gone to,
And we will never know, except that we already know:
And she has made beautiful things with her body, marching,
Played out under the sun
Where she can actually relax for awhile while her
Kids are playing;
And then her eyes have to wander, because that is what she
Is made of, and I can only hypothesize that is what she is
Always doing;
And at night while her trailer makes the sounds of ghosts
Too impossibly large to be there,
I think she is moving again, her body softly breathing:
I dream that she is getting closer to me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem