Читать книгу Psalms - Joy Ladin - Страница 12

You want it both ways, to be the sun

And the clouds that smother it, the heart

And the heart that breaks it, meaningless suffering

And the truth

That redeems it. Nice work

If you can get it

But you won’t get it

From me. You offer yourself

Like an apple reddening

Within my reach, dangling

On the lowest branch, a generous

Hermeneutical fragrance

Drenching every event, trivial and tragic,

In eau d’significance. After all,

What choice do I have? Your angels

Torched the trees

Of life and knowledge,

Although I’ve made a decent living

Battening

On their ashes. You too

Have a taste for ashes. Of ash. Of something

Burned a long time ago

And still burning

Somewhere close to my mouth, the smoke of you

Clogging my nostrils,

A cry for help

I’ve become too bored

To notice. You woo me with the fruit

Of your intimacy, infinity thick

As star-sparked honey, fine-toothed combs

Of forgiveness, the barely-remembered