Growing closer whichever way
The sun
Crosses you,
All day long making
Cold cuts of reason;
This is why you exhibit
Such
Feverish treason
To the spectacular ruby
In the
Crocodilian gaze;
You never step
Down or
Hold hands;
All you need is a
Glass of water
And you are ready to
Skip
School again,
Spurious,
Pugilistic and saucy,
But able to shape pottery;
And the traffic slows
Even though you are far away,
Knee high in a suburban field:
They still have the senses,
The creep of unexplainable wonder,
But I know for certain that this is
The way that you does,
And it is why I can’t believe in
Anything but you again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem