Being pre-menopausal
last night
when I woke up
at three-twenty-four
and picked his book
off the floor
moaned and groaned
and gnashed my teeth
and bit my lip
and said, good grief
are we suppose
to read this junk
Have you ever
heard the word
brief or fun
or light or airy
And laid the book
back on the floor
and shut the light
and said, no more
I'd rather be asleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem