Читать книгу You Teach Me Light - Melaney Poli - Страница 16

Name a place: even the sounds

tell the tale. And gravity, distance, distort.

The stars over Germany in winter swung the whole sky

northward, past the clay tiles around my rooftop window

I could lean out and watch a cold dawn blot them into day

Hawai’i was nothing but sun or rain or vowels, all

a matter of light, cloud, dirt, wind, blue and green

We learned about places impossibly far away

Stars, when they came, spilled wider than the ocean

Somewhere they shone over other places

over you, over the Dutch flag that I was convinced

was that of every nation, even over the dark wake

of the midnight ferry from Oostende

the crooked finger of the Chesapeake

that surprised me from the plane. Home must be

where I tend to, the tongue I am understood. Its weight

changes the shape of everything, each tale telling

every sound, every place in one name.