Hair in the car yours
I can have no one knows
relaxing but the riots in walls write
control is secret,
we can’t keep it like good clothes
I have your marks and my head’s
painted.
Control is secret what elephants remember
I remember wrong. Out among the missing
guest gloves and daughters exasperated
dropping mistaken stiff hair spits
bodies, non bodies, and cuts alike
indict stumped oxide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem