familiar stomps
on a shiny, surprised floor
flailing arms
a mouth too silent
subtle as a gun
yet elbows
turns of the neck
and couch punches
seem a just a little too
reminiscent
clothed and warm
after aeons of marks
scars and jokes
this will never
be comprehended
it’s a taste of space
and connivance
oh Universe
sly minx or magister
don’t let me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem