Читать книгу Door in the Mountain - Jean Valentine - Страница 41

I could never let go

my husband

my wound

my sleep

but they were surrendered from me

my books them

pleasing you/

disappointing you

the desire for men

gazing

feeding

the cursive characters

I my you

in chalk across

the white-lined blackboard

surrendered from me

when I couldn't breathe so.