Читать книгу Phases - Mischa Willett - Страница 10

Since the angel offered

the bowl of holy

water like a tray of sweet-

meats at a cocktail gathering

she was—ahem—hosting,

I took one, by which I mean some,

like chestnuts were a-roasting

and it was Christmas, which,

in the way that all masses

are feasts of Christ, I sup-

pose it was.

Since she seemed easy

bearing its scalloped shell,

pleased even to hold

the half-ton marble well,

I didn’t feel bad for her,

standing at the entrance

these many centuries, still as stone,

like an attendant at a washroom,

which it also was.