I am a storm drain
Upon the curb
Of your heart.
When you’re releasing
Soft tears of sorrow,
I am a welcoming jaw,
A deep open throat-
Prepared to carry
The rain away.
One gray morning,
If you could
Fold a small
Paper boat-
And send
Him sailing
Down the street
Into my metal
Teeth-
I would know
That you
Still make the
Best of sadness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very well written poem. if there is ever a best of sadness i am certain this is it.