Clever as I may be and garrulous
One object has me running as if
I am being chased by the wind.
The only thing is I run and
Never touch ground. I shy away
From this numbered judge
With eyes invisible and limbs hidden
Inside the bathroom they call a
Scale. It takes my breath away
Each time I am called by the morning
To get on it. I stand and think
Twice after saying two Hail Marys
And then get on and them zip
My mouth for the sigh of relief
On what I see says I must not
Talk for people will hear how
Things sugary have gone to the
Heavens with my dear soul calling
Me to sing songs religious
Each time a plate of food
Lands outside the door on
My landing.
This game of hide and seek
That I play with my scale
Has had us call each other
Me the cat and the scale
The dog for we have this love
Hate thing going that forces
us to get together and what
I hate is always the scale is
The plaintiff and I am the
Defendant. Why should this
Piece of invention invade
My life when it cannot move.
Next time you will hear there
was an arrest for throwing
Things at the wall. Know it
Will be this accuser who never
Seizes to have statistics to
Back up the arguments that always
Have me go away the loser.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem