I have been thinking of all the bodies that could be mine,
of each face we claim and put to shame and how we blame
one another. I have been thinking
of all the people who could be
red (how many
am I?) and all those who live
in dread
without
an iron curtain
to crouch behind.
Stripped
of reserve, no longer
permitted
personal
private
pride
exposed
full frontal,
this position
is not exciting - just
assault, would you
call it just?
When I ask,
your face is stone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A hard right...well written.... to have read the man, stared at the supine.. and carved away at adversity reaching for the summit... tis no easy feat.. or walk of feet.. thank you.. I enjoyed this much...