Poetry

Poetry in translation

Let me now comment on your choice of words,

concerning my skin that leaps to meet yours under the table,

as your knee presses against mine, my foot dangerously close

to yours.

I don't know why poetry

has to be so complicated, linguistically.

And as to the shirt that

twists into flowers in the lyrical speaker's fists,

I think yours could as well yield

to bloom between my fingers.

You roll words in your mouth as if they were pearls, but listen carefully -

they are too long and too exotic

for naming a kiss.

All fancy metaphors seem to be palatable

if they are not spoken in our native tongue.

The wave of heat from my cheek

shall not

burn the printout, master. The way you hold

your pen

is absolutely thrilling.

Maria Kardel