it
violate
tear
gnaw
become a skin filled
with jangled bloat
bleeding
scraps
of bone and flesh...
of soul-parts
exchanging
cacophonies
let
it
have its way....
it must...
it is no strange beast...
it is yours...
it is love..
it is nothing....it is all things....it is....
it is messy, unbeautiful.... perfect....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem