Читать книгу Child in the Road - Cindy Savett - Страница 8

I alibis

I am sorry for the cradle

the walk between dreams

for the distance ignited

in your eyes

I count

seeds from wavering dogwoods

collect white knives

from your mouth

of soft death

the assault and the still place

blessings dark from the middle song

of roiling waters between my teeth

night ruminations

of an oak trunk and the overgrown thunder

a turn of justice in the branches

small forecast in single flight

a flash of gold

of lost water and the wreckage

my honey breath

lies in the shelter of your bones

soiled

by the sounds of the dead

that caravan beneath my feet

I am tethered by alibis of blue air

volumes of silence catch in my voice

signet of the forgotten

and the listed dead

Motherchild

I stroke this day

speak the dance

of a closed leaf

jawed by the wind

incarnate the language

for heavy

light

buried in the white day

on unwatered

seed

mistaking

your bloodied arms

for a random touch or dark songs

for the white of your trill

and bare stripped stalk

with nothing but the bone

and the wind

wet through your words.

Begin in the stick time

I am dust

faceless

the wicked sands and the waters that caress the sky

air

caught

in the turning grains

I am the book of winds

the red dew

petals across my chest

I am the chaste night mountain

a coiled wind

exhaling

shadows of crystalline black

I am the mouth of Great Blue Breath

a bare scent

on parched earth

the ribbon of rising wing

kiss of god

broken

in your pale

eyes

slip into the fire’s mouth

with bells around your neck

unknot the ribbons

silk spun of stilled song

stems curled

intent on splitting the nightseams

in this theater of roses

I am covered by my nakedness

terrible living of the day

from the underbrush

a hesitancy

pours

one step beating lights below this platform

I dance through an unhinged night

where the breaking occurs

dread in the aborted word

mouth

with a slate tongue

shard

for the master of bared faces

nameless

you have pinned your burnt lips to the morning inscription

spilt vowels from pigeon wings

fractured

and come home with salt and blood thread

from the absence

I close the gate to my children

their stomping and blessing

latch on shattered glass

whisper red mornings

cast stones in ash

coiled and glazed at my feet

bridge voices in the water

I am your dark

kiss

the creation

of seas where the dead

float

upright

tilted mouths to scream

the winter grave

of night swinging through your hands

an unmarked

heredity of the hard-thrown flood

the absence of origin

lone player

singing on the trumpet’s edge

beside my night

to hone the winter prayer

what was between us

was a demand for names

when the warmth of blood

of wild dogs

was the dream of a dance

with sirens heavens

and the clotted leaves

and the clearing

mutations

between my fingers

over and over

hands red in repentance

tonight’s wings

are blue

first among voices

hovering by the night stalk

meager boundary

between us

stamp of the foot

and here I lie

thick dust and the night rhymes

in the ruins of each

spitting tongue

parched accent of the hard dirt

were you to believe

in junction of light then

I would die

the thousandth time

along the way I dropped you

and you lay

apart from creation

midday sun

severs

my tongue

you reach to the birthplace

of gods

along the way

I have misplaced you among red tulips and the mist

surrendered dayfall

to white breath

ritual of circles

I hollow your name

above faces in the stones and dirt

blood-drops

near the open cage

snow harvest

my arms

know you

gray stars

frail hand of god

on the buried

cup

in this terrible

chair

my summer hands

touch your lips

abide the early fog

wasp without

her nest

ferry

of death

I dig in the ruins

for absence

ignite your canceled breath

again

I have forgotten

your face a mask of the wary night

in millions

of grains

of sand