Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 34

Placing long-stemmed sunflowers in a vase

or staring at a map of Paris

may be a form of ripening.

In the garden, red-leaf lettuce has bolted in the heat.

The surface of water in an old whiskey barrel

twitches with mosquito larvae.

A bingo billboard on a highway

may be a momentary rippling,

but the deeper undulation is shark-womb skin.

Slicing abalone on the counter,

I catch a tidal surge at my fingertips.

By candlelight, a yellow cosmos,

koi roiling the surface of a stream into gold flecks,

your sharp wild cries.