In moments
fleeting
I catch a glimpse of happiness
like unlatched bathroom doors
or those brief seconds
between the towel falling
and when her bra is hooked
and spun.
The future is in there.
The past too.
Caked with whatever I lost
in between.
More than cracks and come,
I think,
but if that's all there is,
that's ok too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem