The daintiest boy fetched the hot coal
Took a hot coal in each hand
Brought them with no particular speed or discomfort
And cast their dying heat on the bedroom floor
The bedroom has been converted into a study
It contains a table with a computer on it, a printer, manila folders full of typed out pages
He is dirty and smells bad but has perfect recall of the image he sees
The colors he knows we do not have the capacity to register
Our minds would never be able to acknowledge more than a surface perception of what he does
His belly is hunger and his moments of peace are alcohol
I would never cut a limb nor miss a payment
I can do two things at once
The baby will be removed from the bathwater before the bathwater is thrown out
And tonight I will sleep under fresh sheets and a department store bought quilt
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem