Читать книгу Renaissance Normcore - Adèle Barclay - Страница 7

Would you rather be the sun or the moon?

Would you rather sing like Jenny Lewis

or Fiona Apple? I gave you a box from Lithuania

and inside it wind and rain. And beside it

space for another box. This isn’t a nest

but a to-do list I vaguely mention

as if I know what I’m doing tomorrow.

The alarm will go off and I’ll sink

into resignation that light isn’t the ocean

but it almost is. I’ve replaced living

with swimming and reading Anaïs Nin.

I like when she shuts down Henry Miller

for correcting her English, trying to ply her

away from her diary. I read their letters

and imagine them both on Facebook Messenger—

all the dick pics he’d send; her, chatting up

several men at once and never recycling material.

Would you rather be blood or stone?

Would you rather receive or give a dick pic?

Be moved or be the one doing the moving?

Between us a storm

and two completely different skies.