it’s snowing outside - a blizzard
not knowing inside - it’s miserable
flakes coming down - “a million parachutes”
aching deep down - too many paramedics
and as they fall, I quiver, what if she’s gone? ?
what if she fell. all calculations were wrong.
and what if with the sun, though it rises, come worse days? ?
evening: friends, night: white, mo(u) rning: black, daytime: lonely
left with picture and program and poem...alone.
like all of the others I stare down the phone.
“collect call from Zion, the New Jerusalem”
“package from 127 Gold Street from a Lady Louise”
delet all her pictures-regret-it’s too late
deactivate facebook-reminders just mount
that envelope, this playlist, erased and eradicated
now to hex with my mind! !
you’re in it
all through it
and these words don’t help free it
by looking away, you’ve forced ME TO STAY.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem