← v7n1, Spring 2008
Poetry · Volume 7, Number 1

Faith, Tomaž Šalamun | translator Brian Henry

Precious copper mouth.

I hide, hide my head in you.

I have only one white sense.

The rib from which Adam was made.

Cliffs, how they are spouting.

Azure, how it burns you.

Yours, sleepy and starving.

I am hugging you.