It’s Easier When We Cry in Translation
2009 October 27
It’s easier when we cry
in our beds, sheets pulled up tight
against shadows of whipped trees
in the yard. Simpler to burn
the wings off moth-angels
because our wings were torched too.
I love what you’ve done
to the earth – your loins, fine
draperies over her windowed eyes
so that it’s possible to block
excruciating light that comes
to remind us of how it will fall
even in translation.
I should not have done that.
I agree.