lockpicks tick
in the barrel
where the key should click
dancing over tonuge and groove
the puppetmaster
making them move
a clandestine art.
to, from the inside,
take something apart
surreptitious smile
quiet fingers work for a while
stealthy never hostile
won't be here for long
soon it will be open
and i...far gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem