there must be a link between
a caterpillar
and the nail
on your theory of inter-connectivity
though we
most of the time burn bridges
break ships
and live on islands
there must be a trace between our
ashes
either those scars
or those new skins
words are growing wings
to fly to you
you have designed cages
however
to keep them
dying
my fingers want to touch your lips
your teeth grit
there is no truth to your bibles
where termites
build their empires...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem