A dart across the arm
The cherry pies explode
In mid-air, take cover
Skin-tight smiles
Pull up the waiting ladder;
The moon limps on a cane
My truth tastes
A little too nice
Or was it liquorices?
Before I lose my mind
I’ll tie it to a leash;
Time where’s your neck?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem