Читать книгу Door in the Mountain - Jean Valentine - Страница 14

Eighteen

Green bookbag full of poems

I leaned with my bicycle

at the black brick edge of the world

What was I, to be lost

or found?

My soul in the corner

stood

watched

*

Girl and boy

we had given each other

we wanted	breasts
bellies	hair
toenails	fingernails
hair	nipples
foreskin	foreskin
heart

*

I gave up signing in

to the night book

little notes in time

signing our names

on the train's engine car

gray 19th century Irish men

in our gray stiff clothes