Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 13

An apricot blossom opens to five petals.

You step on a nail, and, even as you wince,

a man closes a mailbox, a cook sears

shredded pork in a wok, a surgeon sews

a woman up but forgets to remove a sponge.

In the waiting room, you stare at a diagram

and sense compression of a nerve where

it passes through the wrist and into the hand.

You are staring at black and white counters

on a crisscrossed board and have no idea

where to begin. A gardener trims chamisa

in a driveway; a roofer mops hot tar;

a plumber asphyxiates in a room with

a faulty gas heater; a mechanic becomes

an irrational number and spirals into himself.

And you wonder what inchoate griefs

are beginning to form? A daykeeper sets

a random handful of seeds and crystals into lots.