Читать книгу Because the Sun - Sarah Burgoyne - Страница 34

THE PURPLING NIGHT IS THE TREES HEAVY WITH DARKING ismyshelving of its book thereon myshelf as the dog callsin the field, thick with the sky’s bidding perch me back on mytable,with mynewing myprecious newing, aloof moon, leave me be how i got so comfortable with a sleepy passing car tomarry myfearing ridinground the gazebo__mynighting is the waves of sound in the distance, myfonding of fear, o communicator,it hangs like a wet heat, mylimping dog on mytable,so comfortable with it, myblooding filling mybody with heat, wristing night’s folds in the pages, the trees electricking withsundown, a stone building fortifies against the shimmering which isthe unworried night sky pestlingme tosugar,my anointing complete, the benches are waiting for it, not differenting mysorrowedlungs, empty of performance,and the clouding pinking bluinglightingleaving (39)