to write about
you
you become a
story with a plot
with other characters
waiting for their
scripts
this will include
a night mute to its
darkness
the pillow that fell
on the cold floor
the blanket that
we refuse to cover
our gleaming bodies
the sweats keep on
reciting a poem
the windows that keep
on inviting
as to what is next
to tell
there will be others
minor in their roles
but can make the story
whole
the least that i
may include
if i really want to
or perhaps just
keep it there for the
mystery is this
conscience, which
had been rehearsing
its monologue
devising ways
to tell but not to reveal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem