Читать книгу Contrapuntal - Christopher Kondrich - Страница 6

So I take my hand,

and even though I know my hand,

I know I know it,

it feels like your hand.

I take it but I’m tired.

I know I’m tired because I squeeze

what I see between my eyelids.

Then I dream that your mind is mine.

I dream that I secure it

with my end of the rope.

I wake while saying

that what I say is the truth,

that you should believe me

because I say it.