Dead-ended snowflakes
unfolding off the dashboard
barefooted as if an old attic ladder had
strangle held rungs smothered in a glovebox
justifying by any means
such tyranny
of handstitched gallowses
veiled over brutal truths
Cactus flower flipflops
hung from black
shotgun mirages
of white and red petals
closer then they
disappear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem