Читать книгу These Intricacies - David Harrity - Страница 13

If it’s blamelessness you want, stay in bed.

At the moment you crack an egg you’ve sinned.

As what’s careless and rote—a state, a taking place—

will open. The egg will crackle

its hundred laughed hellos at your thoughtless repetition.

And you won’t hear since you’re so busy

planning the day, your simple indestruction. Impervious begins

your wrong turns and you forget

this has to end, that this might be the last thing that you kill—

finality cradled in the hand,

what small oval and your hunger for the inside. All of it

coming out so easily: you

flick your wrist and let the day begin.