all curled up
fetal and weeping
don't despair
though all of this is fragile and weak
like the two bands of thin blue smoke
gracefully making their way
from the cigarette between your slender fingers
to the ceiling of your basement room
it still is
so move over
let me have a drag from it
across all this distance
and barbed wire selfdefence
we can still be something
and when I take the cigarette from you
our fingers will touch
for a split second
across continents
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thank you for making my day that is saying a lot you know