Читать книгу Armada - Brian Patten - Страница 9

From my vantage point on the top stair

of a house that no longer exists,

I sat like a cabin boy who listens in secret

to the crew of a great, creaking ship,

and eavesdropped on the adults below me.

A dial searched through the static

of radio wavelengths. Band music.

A fug of voices. Light. Comfort.

Soporific sounds cotton-wrapped the heart

and sent me, a little spy, sleepwards.

I do not know what happened while I slept,

Nor how long I slept. I cannot say.

But waking, I peered down into darkness.

No voices. Silence. In a blink it seemed

Familiar objects had become antiquated.

Whatever secrets I had hoped to uncover

were never uncovered, and now

are covered by gravestones or burnt to ashes.

I cannot blame that child his lack of attention.

He would have understood their secrets

no more than I can understand why, once again,

I attempt to eavesdrop on them,

and move down, stair by stair, towards them.