Читать книгу Blood Orbits - Ger Killeen - Страница 12

First Flesh

Hand—terminal azimuth

hiving the new verbs of plenty:

cast, grasp, cup, rub between the fingers...

and so it is a pitched brightness,

part salt, part spilling, part

disappearance into some cut less

known than night which migrates

out of the pulsed breath that was

all you sensed of the other side

of the infinite margin.