Places where I sleep are
In you sleeping
Like children along a long highway
Resting their heads
Where their mothers should have
Been,
While they are taken across the road
Kill and the crocodiles
Who are always pretending to cry
As they get ready to have lunch- and they
Are spent but downsized,
Like rockets sleeping in cornfields
Spilled across baseball diamonds:
As you pass across the girl you were once
Sure that she loved
Sleeping like a pregnant rattlesnake
In a disconcerting trailer in the sated
Parks with her one and only husband.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem