the way we live
is hard to spell.
i always combine
these letters forming
words which i myself
refuse to understand.
twin towers. unconnected.
the people connect us
in their hunger for
firm resolutions.
we blot out beliefs.
there is nothing left
to believe. the woman
who spoke the truth
died of cervical cancer
years ago. she said
our love cannot last
we try to disprove her
and now even if we
had nothing left,
we keep company just
to disprove her.
or the institution.
the way we live is
back to back. when
we face each other
we keep this familiarity.
we say, we are more
than friends less the
lust. less the love,
to rightly say so.
we are two windows of
this house. no one closes
any of us, in all those
nights. Let the moon
be our witness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem