I shall hold on to my piece of the bone,
knuckle bone, they say;
you hold on to yours.
Interlocking symbols
of our undying love.
Twenty years from now,
we shall see if they still match,
still seal the space in between.
If they don’t,
we shall have arthritis
between us, the bone rust
of twenty years.
(2001)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem