the letter M
had become so significant
because of you,
the vowels are hidden
for so many reasons,
that i only know, and you
shall remain a mystery,
but not to me, i who have
known you
from your hair to toe,
i who had loved you
endlessly, but had refrained
to dance, and sing, or to
hold your hand,
for the pain is as equal to
the joy,
and summing them up,
it will be better this way,
i write, and you do not read me,
i love, but you will never
love me,
i have a secret song in
my mind, my mouth does not
sing it,
my tongue curls upon
itself
like another bat in its
came
a worm in a can,
a skeleton in a closet,
a bean in the lowest
layer of the bed,
i heave a sigh,
i close my hands,
but not the shape of
a fist
a ball, a chrysalis,
with ho hope for
a butterfly....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem