Mantis girl, all legs and arms,
a mess of open wounds. Too many
mouths open, too many blank eyes.
Femina juvenilia. A pink heap in
front of a secret room, filled
with stuffies and unread words.
You have no story, just strings,
a body opened like a bruised pet.
You are a shell, painted, seen
but not understood. Despite all;
you have failed to be immortal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mantis girl....may be the finest opening line ever. really enjoyed this work. A 10.