Читать книгу Blood Orbits - Ger Killeen - Страница 20

4. Nivôse

To one a smoldering

coal, to the other

a mouthful of ash,

each and every one its own

hunger: pressure

enough to hold

the swell and hum,

the clatter tumbling over

the royal roads a night

or part of a night.

Otherwise

only rehearsed sayings

bunched up under

the teeth, fitful

squeaking as of

pipistrelles under eaves

steeply pitched against

the weight of articulacy

that is the sad

measure of days.

To one

a few true things,

to the other

a few more.

Otherwise

tragedy

and farce

and tragedy.

Without end.