The most beautiful woman I ever met
showered me with confidences,
scarlet, jade, sapphire
chatoyance in funeral tears.
I wove her a biopsy.
But there
on the other side of the road
are her Concorde-
aerodynamic curves
evaginated monochrome.
Under a shock blanched to pearl
her glare is strychnine.
Her ghost?
Her or a stranger?
Does she recognise me?
If she does, does she hate me
as a dolphin its carver,
hybrid rose, half her organ donor?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem