Читать книгу Blood Orbits - Ger Killeen - Страница 6

Calendar

Now it is one era; now,

another. The sky

burns purple, unpronounceable;

the hours are a bristling

looped into your nerves.

And so, the rock-doves plunge and swoop;

sight strains to parse

their scattering into

verbs inflected for the future;

a hand like amber smoke casts

yarrow sticks, bundles them

promisingly; so many silvery cities

trilling in the solar winds.

Soon the oceanic clatter

of a talus slide;

soon the fluent stutter of guns.