Demanding a theft in the shadows, the angels dive
Perpetually—collecting oxygen and gravity in
Their mouths,
Trying to concoct a loving substance that brings death,
Like concrete and honey,
So the bumble bees are disappearing from
The orchards,
And the roses from the valentines—
Each earthquake makes us lesser yet nearer to her,
And though we are going,
In her graveyard it rains—
And rockets take off:
They only make it across the canal, but at least
They are not killing anyone—
Paper airplanes that make love to bottle rockets—
As latchkeys, virginal, kiss the rains—
Roses and oranges disappearing behind the house,
As in the heavenly churches sometimes—
God’s tears that are not a part of us—
They are reserved for the blessed stars
And we are down here locked into the cars
As the memory of the stars over the empty houses
Bring the tears of the rains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem