In the reeds: bottle-rockets—
Cenotaphs shot off like celebrations besides
My scarred cheeks years ago—
Besides girls who don’t echo anymore:
They are done bartending,
Their wings have touched down and have
Folded up softly—
So now there is not a place left on the
Highway that is not marked with
The copper plagiarisms of a cenotaph—
Disney World is a close as death.
The alligators are all left smiling but only
Because they do not know what else
To do any they never learned
How to cry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem