a tanka sequence for Vladimir Nabokov
we turn
to each other
in a wet kiss
the scent
of her tousled hair
liquid moonlight
splashing her face
the small o
of her crimson mouth
as I unzip her jeans
she wears her panties
with a man's eye in mind
her young body
contains a life story
as much as her brain
the conversation
of our sweaty bodies
she asks me
what remains of this
behind-closed-doors relationship
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem