Clapton's first three chords,
his last three chords,
my words have done the same
Verses once muddled,
distant and skewed,
now thunder down like rain
The syllables left
are short and pointed,
their edges razor sharp
To cut the remaining
clinging vines
—setting fire to the dark
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February,2020)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem