Читать книгу The Carrying - Ada Limón - Страница 17

ON A PINK MOON

I take out my anger

And lay its shadow

On the stone I rolled

Over what broke me.

I plant three seeds

As a spell. One

For what will grow

Like air around us,

One for what will

Nourish and feed,

One for what will

Cling and remind me—

We are the weeds.