T.S., I have strolled,
Turned again,
Wear my knickers rolled.
Dance alleyways...
No clotheslines above.
No doorways with cedar
Lintels.
Shall my Father give,
Or get, love...
Kneeling, throw dice.
Peaches rot. I choose
Pomegranates...lose, as
Time permits, not this view.
Cores, seeds newly planted
For the next.
I dare. Eyes open. Music retains
Many dancers. One hand.
Turn again. In graceful sin,
Of Left. Right.
Death's dominion reigns,
Until a comet throws
Our royalty through panes.
And there, I dance
Past parlor windows
Into the ballroom
Of God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem