a moment in passing up the tender mercy
while sheets of iron guard the hall's
empty branch of government
a hinge on fused frosted dead parts
young flesh and the hurricane in
a heart hardly worth hearing
plastic knives of ancient ruins
paired with wires for radio pranks
and logic in robbery
a second tagged on to
the end of another eleventh hour
to fan old tired flames
holes poked out of grievance
automatically sewn on without help
the pimple in unprotected sight
that shines in dire sunlight
glass covers it up, deflects blind bullets,
on the eve of a forgotten anniversary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
connect your lines to a better insight level. there's a lot of inference aka work for the reader that has to be made/done in-between them/the lines. have no fear - however, my imagination was stimulated. sjg