Читать книгу Purity of Absence - Dave Margoshes - Страница 25

Pride of Flesh

for Melanie

Pride of flesh, skin’s vanity,

blood’s boast, hubris of bone,

these are gifts we bring

to this arrangement, virtues

we have more than enough of.

In the mirror, my image wrestles

yours to the glass, distorting

not just what we see but the sense

we have when gazing at perfection

of being close to what god whispered,

to what he may have had in store

for Eve and Adam had they not been

fools and thrown away heaven

just for the dubious pleasures

of sex and knowledge. For so little,

they quit the garden, crossing

a boundary beyond which

there is no conception, brave

Columbuses sticking out their tongues

at earth’s edge, leaving god’s forgiveness

behind them in the constant slant of sky.

How right the bard was, what fools

these mortals be, all the more so

if they think they aren’t. Fools

who gaze at themselves with wonder,

with reverence, as if seeing something

more than what god had intended,

the simple arrangement of his form,

there on the glass, the reflection

burned with balm onto our perfect eyes.