Читать книгу Collage of Seoul - Jae Newman - Страница 7

I never needed to find myself.

They did a good job at the orphanage.

Scooped up all my pieces, tied them

tightly with a cub scout knot.

It came as a surprise, one night,

to hear my heart create a second beat.

Listening on a stethoscope, I heard

its space: a limpid muscle, likely dead.

Even so, the loran, it ached. Like any explorer,

I know naming is part of the job.

Charting without genes, without you,

I find it hard to trust the maps and stars

of other men. If I follow anything,

may it be the sound I cannot hear,

the feeling causing me to stand, the needle

blistering back and forth

as we meet behind my river nerve:

a thousand candles floating in paper boats.