Читать книгу Local News from Someplace Else - Marjorie Maddox - Страница 9

The day we were to look for houses,

wide with porches and promised sun, houses creaking

with our middle-age bones in rockers; with shutters

stretched open to your upcoming cries and staccato coos;

houses brimming with your grins and girly muses

singing nursery-land tunes in our sleep, our sleep,

that day you, a backwards burglar in my body’s house, broke out

in black water, too soon, too soon,

sounded the alarm till Emergency came running

to cuff you off to breath and barred hospital cribs.

But first you had to live and wouldn’t cooperate.

The authorities took you in hand, called in the helicopters

to whir you over uneven rows of un-owned homes

which we, the expectant buyers, didn’t see,

didn’t see, because in your rebellious escape

and capture into our lives, you were born,

were born, robber of our once-empty dwellings,

thief of our well-housed affections.