Читать книгу Phases - Mischa Willett - Страница 9

When I was Hungary, you bled

me. I leaned my long hair out

the window and you climbed it.

Blessed are you who, when I

was a stone, made a slingshot,

who slew the dragon

I was stuck behind.

Those gathered said, Word,

when were you wine and we spilled

you? When a penny we spent?

He replied, do you remember

the time I was in the desert

and you were a date tree? When

we slid the merman back over

the bow? Surely, I tell you now,

whenever you have hewn

a forest of weak trees,

whenever outfoxed a sphinx,

whenever walked on a pond

that’s frozen there you have

stood on the sea.

The people were amazed.

And sore. And afraid.