When flicking dandruff
from the shoulder of your blouse,
did you hear what I said?
I was certainly on the verge of a breakthrough.
My tears should have told you that.
But you had noticed dandruff
and had to sweep it away.
Running fingers through snarled tresses,
more dandruff fell on your shoulder.
You, of course noticed it,
brushed a palm over the fabric
again and again
until certain all the flakes were gone.
Just as I was about to reveal my fear of…
Anyway, I never did get to that breakthrough
and you’ve since lost all you hair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem