Steady action in the racehorses- in the broken
Jaws of teenagers,
Or in the words I don’t know, as the airplanes fly
Passing by the zoetrope
Of foxes leaping underneath her kitchens:
The alligators seem to be lying all of the time,
Underneath the moon who is
Winnowing the waves like an orchard of zygotes
And the windmills are
Dazzling
Across the slopes of the aurora borealis-
Like kaleidoscopes straining their necks like chickens
To see her from the window
Where I’ve been presupposing that she’s
Been dancing:
This fetish- this allegory lost in the working class
Wilderness across the train tracks:
There she is, and I love her, and my heart is her playground
Of leaping bonfires and Ferris Wheels,
And she laughs in the weighted midway, enjoying all of
Those things she’s so easily stolen from me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem