Читать книгу The Lichtenberg Figures - Ben Lerner - Страница 11

I attend a class for mouth-to-mouth, a class for hand-to-hand.

I can no longer distinguish between combat and resuscitation.

I could revive my victims. I could kill a man

with a maneuver designed to clear the throat of food. Tonight, the moon

sulks at apogee. A bitch complains to the polestar. An enemy

fills a Ping-Pong ball with Drano and drops it in the gas tank of my car.

Reader, may your death strictly adhere to recognized forms.

May someone place his lips on yours, shake you gently, call your name.

May someone interlace his fingers, lock his elbows, and compress your chest,

every two seconds, to the depth of one and one-half inches. In the dream,

I discover my body among the abandoned tracks of North Topeka.

Orlando Duran stands over me, bleeding from his eye. I can no longer distinguish

between verb moods that indicate confidence and those that express uncertainty.

An upward emergency calls away the sky.