Let me stroll coatless, even though January sun
set. Sleeveless tee. Wind, ratchet across my
goosepimples the way I once made slapslat
fence drum, trailing a stick. Loose gusts
flick birdbath, lawn water. Licked
thumb over tambourine: rrrrrrrrrrrrr
across parchment. Shivers
crawl arm. Get set, skin, to receive
─ slap! ─ the whole cold percussion,
drumhead, ring, and jingles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem