For three years I've bargained
rested eyes and sanity for a gram
of poetry on the scale.
I've converted units
of soul to moles, and scientifically extracted
the aether from my bones like marrow.
I took a microscope to adjectives and similies
and the thematics of verse-
waded through the discord of relationships
between verbs and tenses.
Drew up the periodic table of failure to thrive
and like a newborn starved for its mother's milk,
suckled on logic until it was dry and I was left
with a bottle of Oxygen and Nitrogen molecules
I would never, not ever, see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem