Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 29

Blue flax blossoming near the greenhouse

is a luminous spot, as is a point south

of the Barrancas where two rivers join.

By the cattail pond, you hear dogs

killing a raccoon. In mind, these spots

breathe and glow. In the bath I pour

water over your shoulder, notice the spot

where a wild leaf has grazed your skin.

I see the sun drop below the San Andres

Mountains, white dunes in starlight;

in the breathing chiaroscuro, I glimpse

red-winged blackbirds nesting in the cattails,

see a cow pushing at the wobbly point

in a fence. In this beginning web of light,

I feel the loops and whorls of your fingertips,

hear free-tailed bats swirling out into the dark.