on my brim
dons tangible markings.
Crafted genes engage
to warn iconic
of principled
death.
She measures
her tacky line, loping
anchors across
waxen badges
encrusted with
doubt.
I don’t fear
the web she spins
above my cerebellum
since due warning
of predatory intent
gleans.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem