ready to bite
a doormat with
a wide grin of silver teeth
and a back with a thousand turns
and jumps; a face full of hair and eyes
like a hanging Jesus
reading the forest`s floor
like the tiny handwriting in
a girl`s secret diary, a scrivener, tired
as a folded-leather bat then
snappy with a trapper`s sleight
tearing like bread
under a rain of feathers
the inside of a hen;
he prays and eats to love,
then after the kill;
a leash under green shadows
in the half glass of dawn,
the black fence of pine;
the shocked hole of silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love is at the center of all, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.