I cringe at your touch
spikes under your soft-spoken words
pricks of sharp objects
like thistles, knives
shards of broken glass
How I shrink away from you
porcupine man, porcupine man
no symbol of what you are
marked on your forehead
You hide in the shadows
sneak out when I most need a hand
a black hook there instead
lethal by mere contact
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem