Why do I ask where to go
When caught like the wolf
Who licks an eskimo's sword?
The tree that my parents put me in,
That had too many branches,
Doesn't have so many anymore
But copies of those bloodied blades.
The tallest branches were the first to go;
Those raised balconies in the sky.
Maybe I should wash my clothes
And offer them to that star and cloud contradiction; I only
Make them dirty and they tear at the seams;
They never were too good a quality.
I can package myself away until someone has a use for me.
Yes sir, this coffin will do fine. Or
Should I push my vegetarian flesh
Through a meat-mincer to be sold
As an alternative to peanuts and popcorn?
My shouted beg has dissolved
Into the four walls.
I won't pretend to understand what this is about but I believe it has significant meaning to you. Almost as if against my will I keep revisiting it. I am intrigued by it. Especialy the second verse about the branches your parents placed you in and oh my: the line about pushing your vegetarian flesh through a meat mincer! Amazing. I wish I knew the meaning behind it but I will settle for the spark of imagination it gives me.
yh definately mark; (i get you. great poem btw! so expressive xxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I used to have conversations with trees when my mother died...they seemed to whisper advice and consolation and their branches rose heavenwards pointing to the clouds trying to make them melt for me and give way to the sunshine.....love your poetry