Answering the phone she bumped
her already swollen mouth
as trickling blood slid off her brow
she would vent a sorrow now
In the Weeble World plastic
gets scuffed up and tainted
acquainted with those lengthy
years of abuse from rough hands
In the Weeble World hurt is ignored
Spitting out pleas through a few lose teeth,
explaining herself
to her mother cause she listens
as she dusts off her daughters shelves
In the Weeble World plastic
cracks fill with condensation
in affiliation with those lengthy
years of abuse from being dropped
In the Weeble World gashes aren’t sore
As her Mother asks her “Honey? ”
“Why don’t you just come home? ”
She’s heard plunging to the floor as
her husband knocks her from the phone
In the Weeble World rounded
they all bounce back in protest,
pounce back to matters they address
announce tactlessness not just
In the Weeble World our world’s abhorred
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem