Then there was Colorado
The tourists traveled to, never once thinking of
Aspen,
And the steep paths up which my mother was born
Into the cabin of a blind man
With her brother:
How they became lost together, suffering
Various metamorphosis, until
My mother smelled of lavender, and flew away:
And her brother dropped off the cliff
And into a trailer park,
Drinking himself into a working class epiphany:
And I thought of them together while I
Was alone,
And my mother was an attention in the sky,
Shining in the sun, wishing me a happy birthday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem