Rusted and corroded-
crumbling tintypes left to rot
in a soggy hat box
in the attic.
Too long forgotten-
they haunt me.
Specters drawn from nightmares
that are waking, ever present
always lurking,
in broad daylight,
in the moonlight,
they are waiting,
patiently for me-
to remember.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem