Make it stop before it becomes doubt.
Kill them off with one frail shout.
Help me darling, I beg you - please!
Bark them off me, perhaps up trees?
Each night the nightmares come and go,
Why can't I ever dream of snow?
Or love? Or wonder? Why undertow?
I'm pulled out further with each stroke and kick,
Are they strokes of swim, or is it paint and stick?
(July 2010)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem