I can see it coming,
small in the distance
just a spot at first,
but I know
it's coming for me
sure-air, clear
cross-hairs
frame my soul,
zero-in
on my languid pen
til, joyfully I bolt
for the house, tear
through dark rooms,
turn on my dim light,
and breathlessly wait
for the poem
to strike.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem