Читать книгу You Must Remember This - Michael Bazzett - Страница 16
ОглавлениеThe night is not a hole
to fill with your thoughts.
It is not a sock to stuff
deep in the gob of morning
and hope the sun has
soiled itself there on the couch
where it collapsed after the gin.
The sun can be so tiresome.
The night is not a black dog
snuffling around the muskrats.
The night refuses to stumble
through Byzantine circuits
like loose electricity. The night
has no limbs. It never stutters
or grabs. It settles in like
a headache: there before
you know it then a pressing
darkness stained with light
and you wish you’d taken
that handful of crumbling
white pills before it came.
