I want to climb up this world like an
Ant up a leg- the leg of any mammal until
I find you and can rest panting in the little flower
Bed making an areola around your rusting
Mailbox, just as I knew it would;
And then to raise your little red flag like the fruit of
Surrender to make you come running outdoors
Like for the ice-cream truck in the early days of after school;
To get you to look at me and to remember if you can
What I never meant you to,
To pull me in like a nurse gathering the die cast trinkets
Of fighter pilots to her breast,
The little zigging tails of airplanes too tiny to be attended
By stewardesses;
And to gather me indoors beside your fire of sorts,
To rest and cuddle with your dogs and to join with your
Kind young family of last resorts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem