My lover wasn’t born mouthing a silver spoon
Thus raindrops fell
Not into a pond
But a narrow gutter of greenish water
I plunged deep into our difference
To reach an impasse controlled by artful smiles
Thirteen months
I scraped every challenge glued every
crack
A fleeting romance rather than near eternal darkness
That privileged boy is not my lover
Thus bullwhips kept the pace
Tongue sharp and gawky
Kissing my back
Obscene jokes no longer funny
Tear apart the heart – bluer than anguish
I, my lover and the privileged boy
Ran with different arrows
Anger’s bias fatal
Night blind
I wanted to break
My bonds strewn disintegrated
So I left the dearest ones and
Was off to spill the beans to the bullwhip moon and rain
My steps yet to be stopped
They had drowned in the gutter
void of smiles
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem