with your hands
you frame the sun
you stare at it
you know what
happens next
too much light
too small a grasp
too much sun
too small a mind
do you remember
how the balloon
burst? i shiver
to the sound of
your explosion
there are shatters
of memories
left on the ground
but not calling for help
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem