My mother or my grandmother looks
Beautiful in her brand
New vehicle—
Like Mexican petunias, all lilac and
Purple,
On high stems around the shoulders
Of retired housewives
At the exact same places
The graveyards surrender their plumped
Borders
Where bones look up from
Beneath the earth
As the day rides its candles over them—
And breasts heave and sigh
Heave and sigh
Upon the beautiful vehicles that carry them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem