Oh, dangling long sleeves in the Mercurochrome.
Parking her punch on her knees.
I'm not a joiner.
In the night, a visitation, small as a thumb,
enters the sealed house and ascends.
Mother wouldn't have stood for that long. Drippy-drooping around
on heels. Leaving the blue cheese out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Give me a glass of water, I'll take her nice A+