Читать книгу Augury - Eric Pankey - Страница 13

EPIPHENOMENON

The lizard,

born it seems of fissures,

Skims and quivers up the rock-wall,

Insinuates itself between chipped mortar

And a holdfast of lemon thyme

And is gone, resorbed again into stone.

Another nameless spectacle,

the man thinks,

As he opens the door and a new day enters with him.

He moves from room to room,

Pulls the black crepe from the mirrors,

Finds himself reflected there in each.