Instead of saying
what it's like being dead
the ghost of my dead cat
detectable in the infra-red
forestalled my questioning
'I never understood lemons'
if only I'd had the chance to explain
but I was caught off-guard
and life isn't easy
maybe an awkward silence would have sufficed
a nervous cough
time to think twice
I see the lemons in the bowl
yellow
and I'll pretend
not to notice the semblance of nipples
at one end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem