Читать книгу Collage of Seoul - Jae Newman - Страница 18

I whisper Yhwh against a rage

that has cost me more than fingers and toes.

I could not hold, bury, or escape

the shape of your grief. It moved

along glaciers snapping the ends

of islands into the sea.

Lips pressed to sleeve, I carried

mouthfuls of your dust mumbling dead prayer,

prayers made and lost within the solitude

of imagined Alaskan parks where

I chased your sorrow only to discover

the land where mine is local legend.

Vanishing woman, the way to the Bering Strait

is lined with lessons of your winter.

I travel by foot against evidence