Читать книгу The Porcupinity of the Stars - Gary Barwin - Страница 14

ONE-FACED

don’t do it, I said

choosing a piece of toast

a perfect fried egg

but she unhooked her jaw

and swallowed the sun

now it was really dark

and she stood up from the table

breakfast was over

I couldn’t find my running shoes

or my briefcase hand

my dreams were of the moon spitting

as I tried to play chess

my abdomen was a sand dune

shaped by the wind

into the grains of a million

directionless games of beach volleyball

an infinite number of piglets

gnawed on my fingers, which were sprouting

uncomfortably from every orifice

there was no coffee

the paperboy crawled up the stairs

then ran away

bakers made bread but the yeast didn’t care

and nothing rose

the day passed

my wife called friends

arranged a carnival

crocheted a thunderstorm while I slept

she made lunch in darkness

used the bones of the dog to retread

the parson’s tires

and the sun

a hero with but one vast and burning face

travelled all day

through the sparkling labyrinth of my wife

when it was time

she lay on the lawn

and the sprinkler kicked in

we watched a brass band founded by groundhogs

overturn glasses of milk

birds flew from our mailbox

and her friends gathered round

don’t do it, I said in my sleep

it’ll be the end of you, I said

but my wife was already writhing

making divots in the sod

her left leg thrashed

then split the picnic table in two

fast-food wrappers filled the sky

and the swimsuits of the ancients

released their chlorine

I woke from my thousand-year slumber to see

the sun

born from the womb of my wife

daylight returning

blinkless and new