If she sold it to me
I’ll eat all of it
Even if I don’t need it,
And the plagues
Of
Wasps and spiders
I will
Tame under
Softly hissing tallow
And put to nest underground
In corduroy dungeons
And feed
Those pallid monsters
Boxed lunches the
Same as she
Fed me
Rolling in on steaming
Skates
And sandals
So many years
Ago.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem