Читать книгу This Carting Life - Rustum Kozain - Страница 9

Leaving

You brought me mangoes, overripe

with a fizz in their yellow flesh:

the tang of home-made ginger beer –

my childhood – you took from your bag,

opening your palms to sunset.

*

The day breaks. We move into

each other, huddle in every known

hollow, and make love one more time.

Then we drink the last of the wine,

our favourite, for breakfast …

Afterwards, I look at your blood

pearling small berries in my hair

drying on my thigh in patches

darker than my skin: like wine

this blood that numbs the cut

of our parting.