Your gray pencil strokes of Independence
Carry themselves in Femininity's
Dressy handbag. Together - that is.
Apart - they'd be tiny or powder-like -
Enough to sprinkle or fall out.
The flower flashes her
Seductive smile my sensual way.
I almost fall for her.
So does lovable Femininity.
You sit still like a well-behaved newborn -
Tucked carefully away with the cardboard book cover
Over you like a vertical blanket. You wait patiently
For the return of Destiny's luscious spotlight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem