Читать книгу Penumbra - Michael Shewmaker - Страница 13

Diorama

Stairs

Beneath the banister,

along the wall, two racks of shoes

and a tall, black grandfather clock.

Its face reads eight o’clock.

It chimes. A wooden woman

walks a small mechanical plank.

A row of portraits scales the stairs,

each larger than the last.

Bedroom

Greens and yellows. A man leans

hard on the bathroom door.

Covered in a ringed quilt,

the bed is meticulously made.

Too many pillows. Matching lamps

light the matching nightstands.

His hand jostles the knob.

Everything is in its place.

Kitchen

In the center of the room,

a table left in ruin—

a meal heaped on three plates,

a fourth shattered on the floor.

Milk trickles from a tiny mug

onto the tile. A dog

with different-colored eyes

licks cautiously along the grout.

Hallway

Down the narrow corridor,

more portraits, a glass case

lined with porcelain dolls,

a runner leading toward a door

latched against the dark. A lone

light glows beneath the dolls.

They float above their stands,

ordered in descending rows.

Bathroom

The vanity reflects

the floral trimming. Violets.

A woman, sitting with her back

to the door, hides her eyes.

Behind the half-drawn curtain

in a clawfoot tub, the children wait—

propped on its lip like cherubs—here,

where no one will cry out.