Читать книгу Northwood - Maryse Meijer - Страница 22

DAPHNE

Her back against me catching her

deep breaths. Naked she was smooth as pith

hair caught in a branch I pulled it free.

The women kneel at the root I watch.

How determined they are to bleed. Apollo’s gold eyes

didn’t dazzle me I

prefer the stream she opens her book and learns her trees

the flies are heavy this time of year she

combs them from her

bangs at night she’s thinking more and more

how to

escape it should she escape

where’s your daddy I asked

isn’t he a god