My heart is a pin cushion
Where many needles are kept
And an emery bag
That cleans the rust.
It is like a red tomato
But doesn’t squirt when pricked,
It is firm like a red ball
with players to hold it
And dribble it many times
To the ground.
It is like sunflower with many petals
Some strong and some wilting,
It is triangle like a tree.
My heart has many shapes
dolours like cakes
wiggling under skin of veins
Curves, straight lines,
And bath bubbles of fine red
rainbows that magnet grief
loves all so brief
soon to oblivion. O heart, you,
forever God will keep!
06.29.09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem