Читать книгу Time Will Clean the Carcass Bones - Lucia Perillo - Страница 25

Cairn for Future Travel

I was young for a minute, but then I got old.

Already the black cane stands by

the threshold, already my feet are flowerpots

in thick black shoes. So not long now

before I will have what follows:

a spidery hairnet to circle my scalp, a hand

callused enough to whack your ear. And with them,

the deep wisdom of Sicilian great-aunts:

how to plumb for the melon’s ripeness, how

to stand the loaves upright in my twine sack.

And you, are you ready? Have you brushed

your brown suitcoat and hat? Have you counted

your mahogany chessmen and oiled the zipper

on their leather case? Have you filled

your sack of crumbs for the pigeons?

In the park, men are waiting, raking

the bocce-court sand. And as for this second-floor

window where I shake my fist: soon you will learn

to feign deafness, fishing the silver ball

up from your loose, deep pocket.