Half-human, half-post industrial, she has lost all sensations of empathy.
in-consciously blunted by the pressures of the economic machine,
Some would die for profit as some for a little life.
Even in giving to a relation, is an un-calculated purpose:
the family is as much a tool for exterior definition
As of interior exploitation:
the mother refuses the son,
newly admitted into college, of leaving the home:
'You can’t leave me with your 'father': I can’t face him alone! '
The son, used to never letting ‘it’ get to him,
takes it hard, and swears quietly at the mother.
'Some day…. Some day…' he slows at the red lights, eyes starring blindly
down Vestal Parkway.
The evening shift at World Mart only hardens his silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem