Читать книгу Four Reincarnations - Max Ritvo - Страница 12

HOLDING A FRESHWATER FISH IN A PAIL ABOVE THE SEA

He strips health out

of the water,

reminding me

of my mother.

I walk in sea

and hold my sweet

fish above me,

no small feat

given the rice-

hard salt scraping

my eyeballs twice

each blink of lid.

I put the pail

in the ocean

and then unveil

the decorous

frail, white-eyed koi.

But the salt, I

think, will destroy

his rocking breath.

Where he wants space

he will get salt.

Where key traces

of the silence

should hang inside

his cathedral

of musical

blood—

Instead, delicious

crystal drills

will crack it all

open; the church,

its ebbs and flows.

I scoop the fish

up by its nose,

a forked affair.

I show you him.

Looks fine to me

you say (Ha!), dim

and lovely you.

This happens more

times, stopping and

starting, me showing

you my full hand,

my fish. Where have

you gone? I was

hoping to wake

from this dream

with you drawing

the curtains, a gold

glow on the sheet

wrapping me up.

You aren’t here

but I’m aware

that somewhere

you have moved.