Читать книгу Light in Light - Deborah Gerrish - Страница 9

The house

on Jefferson Avenue—

1939 mortar, brick, stone

pearly wood shutters

my parents’ bedroom window—

crystal leaded glass,

childhood’s diamonds.

The door

once sturdy—

painted white

three cape cod windows

brass numbers—

faded and splintered

My kindred

their days dust—

spent

like dried sunflowers.

I roam through rooms,

hear my father’s words,

a soft thunder,

my mother calls my name,

calls my name.