Читать книгу Scarecrow - Robert Fernandez - Страница 11

it would be better if you tasted rain

It would be better if you tasted rain

than this spiced asphalt,

leavened brown horizon and flapjack

blacktop

—

Pollution gets in the skin, spices it

red brown red yellow red brown,

so we

—

Take a swim beyond the dusty chambers of summer,

out where coasts decant coolness and fins rising

from heat slicks reveal cooler depths

—

If time’s a chance to stand outside romance

with the immediacies of never-ending foliage

and mark mark mark yes! our pastures for our own

and forthcoming disasters—

—

Here is a bust that rolls down a hill and breaks the water,

fat with coolness

—

I wanted to know a name; I played sports; I

wore shorts; I had a mother and a father (they did too); I

challenged every bone, went south for the winter; I

ate duck, roasted; I said “quail” (it buoyed in me); I

wanted and I wanted, and I

—

Remained. O Icy water, spilled

like a blade across the neck, I ask

that you do your work, I

am tired and it is hot

and today I

have the energy for almost nothing