love for me
(at 53)
is a
locomotive
puffing soot
and
oil into
the sky
(burning up like my prayers) :
just like my
prayers
(and my hopes)
while i wave good-bye
to the empty windows
with no one looking.
left to stand on the platform alone.
(my wrists are the tracks)
i
am going to take a shower
contemplating a razor
to shave with
i guess...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem