With images of flight
and smashing walls
and scaling heights
with Spiderman crawls—
in real or animation
from movies or TV
(modernizations
of the old mythologies) —
my growing son—
nearly five years—
hemmed by his cautions
held by his fears—
his brain all a-simmer
and ready to boil—
beating bad Bluto
and getting the goil—
gets himself ready
to take on the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem