Читать книгу Storm Toward Morning - Malachi Black - Страница 11

Coming & Going

All day long I plunge into the ether

like a tongue into a fragile glass

of water. Thirsty for an urgency

to squint in the crouched sun, to turn

the doorknob of a corner, to open

up into an avenue and run,

I clop unevenly along the sidewalks,

crooked and vaguely caving in,

like some demented, avid mailman.

Though I know no one is expecting me,

worrying a wristwatch, pacing

and awaiting and awaiting

my delivery, I stroll just the same:

there must be something in the air to blame.