Читать книгу No Gathering In of this Incense - Mark Rhoads - Страница 16

To my mother the teacher.

The cool rotating of her head

the meeting of the eyes

that pause

the silence

a silence where

you can hear your heart

beating inside your head

and you think it makes

the whole room pulsate

and the other children

turning toward you

horror on their faces

grateful it wasn’t them