when my heart
remembers
the tears
of the morning-dew
how it clings
to the side
of the Namib sand
till sun and shrub
sniff it clean and up
and my ears run
out of the scarlet
dam
the baptism
of your love
then the tap
of my feet
will drip to you
so that you
can taste me
on the tongue
of your eyes
but for now
I'm just calling
to you…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem