to write a poem
I sit, I face a window
frames some sky, swaying vegetables
an elbow, glimpses of hat
tappings that he puts in
a new window
my neighbour
carves out his relation
through place to earth
just over there
so different, his tractors
I mean: it's the same dot
finds us on the map
I carve, he carves
thus: ‘homes',
to be tethered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem