This wet and grey bank holiday is so
At odds and so ordinary
A place to be with such
An exasperated man, whose
Burnt black heels, cracked crowsfeet,
Bare hands were obedient to
A day so harsh, uncaring,
That still the way we choose to breach
The shell we place too close
About his heart is to stamp on it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am also on this website as Denise Antoni.