We call him Genghis Khan
In our private conversations
This man grotesque enough
To merit a police report
For conduct unbecoming a former Marine
Viet Nam having left more than physical scars.
He tried to plant a tree
Which wind wrecked
Or some other act of God I can't remember.
It seeming strange to me
To give God credit for this tragedy.
Wife and probably Dog don't like him.
A truck being a formidable and ugly weapon
Yet he has spoken nicely enough to me.
Still I wish his tree had lived
I suspect he has seen enough of death
That dark side of him requires no further feeding.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem