The world was held fast in green tourniquets of new
Envy,
I held these pictures of you at arms length and wept and
Thought of fire pits and the ways
That I better belonged deeply to a night of cypress and
Crashed planes
Far from the sororities of stewardesses and always leaping
Across the succession of drainage ditches,
Because these were the pills I had to swallow
And the comet was for the first and the last time
Skipping like a precious stone across this envious sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem