Читать книгу Letters from Max - Sarah Ruhl - Страница 51

FOR MAX

With thanks to Maurice Sendak

Death no wild thing

and you a boy,

Max.

One night in your room

(or body)

a forest grew

and the walls

(or cells) became

transparent

because brightness

invites

transparency, I guess.

Then a little boat

to hospital smells.

Doctors called

the forest cancer,

not obscuring leaves.

and you a boy.

You say:

“Why can’t people use the word

courage?

instead of something

vulgar and idiomatic

about manhood?”

Courage, I say,

is you,

Max.

In your wild suit

your small boat

and terrible forest

a man overnight

no boy

could ever scale those walls.

You come home

and dinner is waiting,

still waiting, I hope, still warm.

*

And today my small boy

learned to swim.

He said: the water held me, Mama.

It held me.