Traci Brimhall | Poetry
The apple tree hangs full of issues
my child has issues
and I have them, such issues
huge problems, or pompoms
hard problems dead persons and field flowers
the wars too are hard foreign fields
we take some pomme-bombing
the apples falling hard then hardly
softly pommelling the earth they do not conquer
I am not in therapy or a territory
clonk bop thump plop
—translated by Iain Galbraith
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