In the waiting room,
I squeeze
this trinity of walnuts
tighter till
louder than that tot
who's rapped her elbow
off the radiator,
I can hear,
clear for once,
clearer than
the sirens I've heard
all these years, the cry
of real fear
as these three
walnuts whimper.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem