Читать книгу Animal Purpose - Michelle Y. Burke - Страница 13

First Engagement

There was this Sicilian place.

You had to take the ferry

to get there. Or we did,

living in Brooklyn. The ferry

was free and crowded, but we

elbowed our way to the rail.

Commuters sat inside, drank

beer from the concession stand,

and read the daily news.

We’d gotten engaged,

but we’d call it off soon.

At the Sicilian place,

a woman sat beside us

and ordered every appetizer

on the menu. She told us her cat

was dying. Baby, Baby is dying.

Later that night, we argued

by the B61. The word marriage

hung in the air like an obscenity.

Nevertheless, I remember staring

into backlit windows,

imagining life unrolling

as smoothly as the stocking

over an actress’s leg.

At home, I told our cat

she’d live forever. You said,

Don’t give her false hope,

then took your fatalism

to bed. That was the summer

your mother worsened.

Once, toward the end,

she told me to eat the dahlias

before leaving. Whenever

I’m served a salad with flowers—

nasturtiums or marigolds—

I think of that and how

I would have eaten the dahlias