Teach me, I said, all that’s obscene. Taboo.
Vulgar. You loved my poems about flesh.
I can say, “Szeretlek,” that I love you —
but I wanted to learn, “En is nedves
vagyok,” I’m wet, too. Not that it matters.
You’re gone. Lost. Somewhere that I won’t follow;
now that you’ve taught me new curses and slurs …
terms to describe my irksome libido.
That’s not to say that you were wrong. Passion
can be … complex. Perhaps you never learned
that so my words got lost in translation?
In the end what changed? Love never returned.
Are you still lonely with your bad karma?
I’m still writing about clits and vulva.
I use two Hungarian phrases in the poem. Szeretlek means I love you. En is nedves vagyok means I’m wet as well.