Читать книгу Creeland - Dallas Hunt - Страница 12

my kôhkom’s rib-cage plumage wrapped around a plum skeleton of barbed wire and electricity bones that catch in the throat of those that wish any of her grandchildren ill cartilage that bends but doesn’t break bends and bends and bends until the slack tightens up and slaps white men in the face cumulus cloud that rumbles grey battering the side of houses gale winds that utter Cree like a caress and a threat (whisper like a brick wall) astam if you know what’s good for you