Читать книгу Psalms - Joy Ladin - Страница 9

There’s nothing here

That’s not your fault, not bees’

Enslavement to nectar’s labyrinths,

Not the cacophonous greens

Shaking themselves out like tangled hair, not

The sinking shiver of my blood

Or the phantom footsteps of disease

That haunt my spinal column

Searching for bits of self to seize

The way you seize on bits of self

You somehow lost

In me, not the terror

Stirring my depths

Like the sea monsters you created

When you were in the creation business,

Not the bombs

Your children strap on

To detonate in streets crowded

With children you seem, in a flash,

To have forgotten. No, I can’t

Not blame you

For a single second

Of the light

That penetrates me non-consensually

Dawn after dawn, impregnating

With hope, desire, need

A body that couldn’t care less

How far away you seem

Even when you are oppressively close,

Stuffing my nostrils

With blossoming breath,

Drowned hair dripping

Over my breasts,

Dripping fragrance, dripping smoke,

Dripping your most

Corrosive acid,

Possibility.