Читать книгу Eventually One Dreams the Real Thing - Marianne Boruch - Страница 19

Long Ago into the Future

I get confused. So an acorn that

pretends itself for years into the giant oak

could nevertheless be windfall,

kaput. One night

does that. I’ve seen

clear evidence in the woods.

By the time the future hits, there will be a past

with our names all over it. Names

brought up from a distance

do have a solitary, universal ring to them: here lies

whoever and ever. Or whomever —

depending on how

the rest of the sentence goes, reversing fate,

subject to object not

seed anymore, not just-starting-out and maybe

that brave. The such

of such matters! The twilight way

it weeps or lucks somewhere to come

back there. Rooms,

various unveilings. To be so

infinitive about it — to spark, to hesitate,

all you want.