Читать книгу Wilder - Claire Wahmanholm - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTHE MEADOW, THE LAKE
The meadow is a lake.
The lake is 400 degrees.
The meadow smells like steam,
tastes like heat, feels like ash beneath our feet.
Its wind rings a brass bell in our ears.
On Mars are meadows of magnesium soil
that slope slowly upward until they reach the highest point
in the solar system.
This meadow is not a lake, but an ocean.
Birds fly across it for so long they fall
like ripe fruit onto its face.
Their smallness puts large holes in
the sails of our breath,
