Читать книгу Because the Sun - Sarah Burgoyne - Страница 37

atits house i sit on the high wireand clang walls lined with papers of burnt oil i run a walkway from myheart tothe ground walk up it this sound isaached tomybody and thousandsof dollars i likemyleather face mybroken tooth my ripe banana skin i sit in the sun i excavate, erase i hunt me for it a woodbug in the walls the exoskeleton rolls beneath the baseboard and myfat fingers can’t reach it i ram intothe truck myinsides bloom on all the corners death iscooking having grown raw rust transfigures mygaze and i am annoyed and tin myheart stamps downthe walkway i am moving (42)