The mirror is foreign
learning this language of the body, the ways it alters
in the throes of a deliberate brutality,
the savagery of thought, its driving influence over action,
harsh impressions left on the skin
as ash corrugates on the surface,
I climb into discolouration reveling in
the trance of pain, constructing a regressive agony,
standing before a transcendent reflection,
this language spoken in glass;
the physical dialect of my targeted body in the soft hum of blood-
harm is the cruel eye of the needle that the body threads through,
to ache is to witness being.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem