Читать книгу School - Jen Currin - Страница 15

I back away slowly.

Depending on what my needs are.

Depending on who asks.

A landscape of musk –

Selling my mask

to a cynical child.

We used to go there before the fire.

It’s hard to know how to story things,

what anything means or meant.

The good of a few drops of peppermint oil.

Old betrayals burning in the back.

Aboard, I was well-read, an unreal self.

Evaluated and humiliated,

enduring

to make way for real knowledge.

It overwhelms.

‘A million scarves,’ is what

I wanted to say.