Читать книгу Heliopause - Heather Christle - Страница 9

A Perfect Catastrophe

To have stood midfield among the vast and livid green

and never heard the grasses take their vow of silence

is experience, not evidence, and meanwhile clouds descend

and buffer light. When did I arrive? I recall it came on

slowly as a fever as a poem is a communicable please.

What’s in charge here is the scattered light all over

and how it pulls my very blood into my hands

until they graph a fat what the sun likes holding

and some dumb mutter good and nails me to the bone.