Cavern of the soul
hollow sound
in holed
throat
your noise
does make the
grating on a board
of chalk in my mind
I hear
if a troll
lives above you
and mistakes your cave
for a sewer then I can understand
the shuffling of many feet in your lair
as all hurry for dinner no bibs to
cover the runic dumpling
you are in the dark
with your weenie
worms for
comfort.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem