Читать книгу Blood Orbits - Ger Killeen - Страница 14

Twinberry

Ravenblack. Gleaming.

To eat is to become

speechless,

as though you are caught

in the seahiss

between transmissions.

The blue jay fanning

his blackish headcrest,

the smell of an alder

catkin, a face you love,

dissolve in the twilit

sibilance of the same word.

Once, early Summer,

each of the yellow

tubular flowers was the paired

node of a new phrasing,

a tenuous, exact rendering

of promise. Once.

To eat is to fall

somewhere like the inside

of a stone, gray and amniotic. Seahiss.

Without end.

Seahiss engorging

the lungs of myth.