Canoes drifting the Mississippi all a little while
We had an apartment
With our dogs in Saint Louis Missouri-
And we dreamed of Sara Teasdale
As we drove beside the Bellefontaine Cemetery,
But never figured out exactly where
She existed for
Eternity- while the fire hydrants were red
At the corners,
And the black children played into crepuscule-
Until all of it was lost
And we got blood poisoning and nose bleeds
As the Ferris wheels churned
The tourists into a make-believe confection-
They seemed to resist themselves,
But then they thought better of it and evaporated-
Into the pretty wives tales and open lips
Of foxes,
And I drove away, heartbroken- matriculating,
Trying to find my love even though to someone she
Had already spoken-
And now here she is, filling up my life as she
Comes to me from across the railroad tresses-
As I think of her, and hypothetically kiss her lips,
And pretend to count her blessings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem