Читать книгу Dead Man's Float - Jim Harrison - Страница 20

Molly the Brave

Molly was the bravest.

In April she would swing out

over the river on a rope

tied to an elm branch. There was still

ice along the bank and one day

her body was found down by the weir

with a bruised head, which meant she hit ice.

One summer evening she hugged me in her wet

black bathing suit after I brought her a milk shake.

My blood became hot and moved in all directions.

When we caught frogs to eat their legs

she said, “We are animals.” And on the hill

by the river we illegally picked trillium.

All the boys wanted to marry her.

We kept putting the wildflowers she loved

on her grave. More than sixty years

later I see clearly that no one gets over anything

least of all Molly by the river,

swinging up through the air —

a bird.