I fall
for liars, cheats, and drunks.
My own reflection
in the toilet.
I find
truth, stoicism, and straight edges
in their pale
white bellies.
Whatever they were.
Whatever I saw.
I find it hard
to flush the dead fish.
Afraid of the face
that I'd recognize
in the swirling water.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem