the abdomens of the angel

(the following is one of my poems translated into Dutch, then back to English)

Sleeping with Emily Dickinson

I within by the window, its sweet flesh bring surreptitiously to take. We giggle in white nightgowns concerning the books active concerning its hyphens, its intentionality, the scepticisme of unanswered love. I would be very quiet. I would say what is not important. Take her to the window, open the extremely small klokkengelui leave below her its, tease the its curtains white concerning its attitude, undulating nacht-wind. The abdomens of the angel. The share of We'd a cigarette. She'd such as that - light wrong step of suicide which interrupts the ogenblikgefluister: Where it is I go -- when we here still both only is its ghostwhitehand keep whispering: I hear what does not write down you.