Читать книгу Door in the Mountain - Jean Valentine - Страница 107

September 1963

We've been at home four years, in a kind of peace,

A kind of kingdom: brushing our yellow hair

At the tower's small window,

Playing hop-scotch on the grass.

With twenty other Gullivers

I hover at the door,

Watch you shy through this riddle of primary colors,

The howling razzle-dazzle of your peers.

Tears, stay with me, stay with me, tears.

Dearest, go: this is what

School is, what the world is.

Have I sewed my hands to yours?

Five minutes later in the eye of God

You and Kate and Jeremy are dancing.

Glad, derelict, I find a park bench, read

Birmingham. Birmingham. Birmingham.

White tears on a white ground,

White world going on, white hand in hand,

World without end.