Maybe you are
Famous again-
Filled with new summer holidays
And amusement rides of
Easter resurrections:
Maybe I will move my
Hands through your hair,
And lay across you like
A giant across a
Stewardess,
As the cicadas molt themselves
Across the savage blue swing-set
Coming alive again in that summer
Filled with blue toys
And other weekend promises.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem