Читать книгу The Sunrise Liturgy - Mia Anderson - Страница 7

Look. Look. You see?

— how dawn

like a benign flesh-eating disease

invades the shrinking dark,

devours.

The dark shrinks, cowers

behind small objects,

huddles, hurls itself

away from tall trees, the lawn’s

a line-up of escapees.

It does no good.

Like Mr Todd.

The sun will trump you every time, Mr

Wind-Who-Would blow Todd’s coat off.

It doesn’t work that way.

Sun beams, it beams.

Dawn. Coats off.

And the dark is gone.

There. See?

Think when it began, when you

could not be sure whether

light had begun or your dream continued.

The benign infection advanced cell by cell

into the body of night, till you could not tell

if you could see

or you could not see.

But you could.

The infarction of love.

Poor dark night. It happens every time.