Читать книгу Calling a Wolf a Wolf - Kaveh Akbar - Страница 9

SOOT

Sometimes God comes to earth disguised as rust,

chewing away a chain link fence or mariner’s knife.

From up so close we must seem

clumsy and gloomless, like new lovers

undressing in front of each other

for the first time. Regarding loss, I’m afraid

to keep it in the story,

worried what I might bring back to life,

like the marble angel who woke to find

his innards scattered around his feet.

Blood from the belly tastes sweeter

than blood from anywhere else. We know this

but don’t know why—the woman on TV

dabs a man’s gutwound with her hijab

then draws the cloth to her lips, confused.

I keep dreaming I’m a creature pulling out my claws

one by one to sell in a market stall next to stacks

of pomegranates and garden tools. It’s predictable,

the logic of dreams. Long ago I lived in Heaven

because I wanted to. When I fell to earth

I knew the way—through the soot, into the leaves.

It still took years. Upon landing, the ground

embraced me sadly, with the gentleness

of someone delivering tragic news to a child.