Читать книгу Digging for God - Anne Higgins - Страница 20

Although the eye doctor’s chart

melted sadly into the wall ,

I can see this minute before me,

like a snowbird in the feeder

eighteen inches from my face.

We stare at each other through the window.

His black beady eye is watchful.

I also can see nouns and ruins,

hairs on my arms,

wrinkles on my hands,

pulls in my stockings and pills in my sweaters.

I can see the ocean, near me in my mind.