Surely reptiles hording over their mean
Plates:
I mean the bone yard of my childhood—primordially
Thinking underneath their thorny hoods
Of eating ponies
And other forget-me-nots:
This is the place, dressed in a haunted wedding of
Crepuscule,
And that is her book of stolen children tossed
Into the aloe after the hour when
My parents were supposed to have returned home:
And all of the neighborhood has fled,
As if to the sea, as it fills up with your emptiness:
A burning nest that was supposed
To be filled with soft eggs—or a warm Ferris
Wheel that you broached to my heart only to take
Away,
Carrying it over the mountains and to another world
Decorated with the banners of rattlesnakes-
To feed to your unbreakable family.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem