Looking at a photograph of my wife as a teenage girl
Class photo, well-liked by her peers, slightly chubby, schoolgirl uniform
Flashing the same smile that hooked me years later
We did not meet too late
You were young and familial and I was angry
Angry about working instead of playing
Angry about rejection
Angry about those who drop bombs
I could not have known you the way I know you now
So we met when time's grooves locked
And the rightness of discussion and union was felt rather than justified
Looking at a photograph of my wife as a teenage girl
And I think of my young self as opposite, frowning, giving off unhappiness like body odor
I wish I could have known her happiness at that age
But happy that she now shares with me what she had at that age
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem