Nugget
I watch her in my side mirror
She is my morning game
Traffic is a disaster
We stand still.
She is a canvas, painted
Not a women, expected
Black shades for the sun
That plays hide and seek
Pancaked her rosy cheek
Lips shape blood of liver
Hand plays tars of hairs
Tampering life and death.
She lowers her visor
Her world in mirror
Revisiting: “Good? ”
Her round mouth
Opening of urn
Of wine?
Whine?
Curse?
Pain?
I go
To look at another woman
Wide-mouthed dent-a-floss
Bye.
But a crow, landing on the lamp
Steals my attention, great miracle
Approaches, slows down, flapped
The best scene I could ever expect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem