What is left when a person goes-
A blank spot in the mirror, that shows
Where they used to be; and some shoes that speak
Of soles, that show a million steps receipt.
Dark smudges on piano keys,
And silhouettes, outlining things,
Memory books with darkened page,
Showing a gradually bent image.
Dried flowers, from some balls corsage,
Catheters, from medical triage,
Lipsticks broken off, in their tube-
This emptiness, where once a person stood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
huh, its different from alot of what i've read of you. could this be a new style your picking up on? it reads splendidly. i love the short lines and easy feel of it though its abstract too. i like it....nice one