There remains a sealed
But half empty container of crackers
On the dining room table
That you used when you ate soup
Beside a bag of peanuts
From which you would offer to share
On certain slow but meaningful afternoons.
I imagine, I'll discard those items in time
As well as others you no longer require;
But I'm so desperate not to relinquish
Any part of you that the grave has not
Already deprived me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very moving and poetic... Makes one cry...