Читать книгу Eventually One Dreams the Real Thing - Marianne Boruch - Страница 7

Gift-Distant, Scratched

Maybe a pool filled with roses someone

uprooted before they bloomed fully.

And I stood before them the way an animal

accepts sun, the way an animal never

thinks hunger will stop.

It does stop. That’s the best

I can say. You’re given a life.

Each all every

small part can’t be good, can’t be

the worst of it.

For instance, I couldn’t know why

such a terrible thing, roses wrenched out of earth like that.

They were floating.

But an animal —

to take in color like taste, flung petals drifting brilliant quick

savored, any human thought

somewhere distant, a scratched record,

the old turntable in the house

over and over, going bad.

Comes wonder in that sound.

Slip into a door

to lift the needle. Or full-faced as daylight,

stay in the yard.