because i am hurt
those who see what happened
give way
for me to leave
i walk miles and miles
until i dissolve at a distance
they will gain an empty space
that someone may fill again
a little boy points to a disturbance
there is an ache, there is something that does not fit
no amount of rotation, nothing sort of replacement
can cure the twisted view, there is no bone on the neck
arms fall to the ground, eyes float in air
fingernails are removed and buried on the ground
here comes the mockingbird
singing a man's song: the black birds fall like dry leaves
the winds stop going,
the clay hardens into stones
here comes mockery, the winners lack the ears
theirs mouths sewn like zippers on a bag.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem