Читать книгу Let’s Not Live on Earth - Sarah Blake - Страница 14

EVERYTHING SMALL

Look, ok, the story—

first, a fox

is on fire, but not

dying, no, in a god-

like way, and flying

a bit, you know,

in the yard

above the grass

in a figure eight

loosely,

and grinning

so maybe you look

at the fox and think,

He’s a fool!

except that you’re

distracted by

all the fire,

how you feel heat

from him from

inside the house

where you’ve been

all along,

haven’t you?

But to continue—

second, a rabbit,

small enough

to hide beneath

a weed,

one leaf of a weed,

which is sad,

yes, pity the body

before it’s grown

fully, or

the body that

can’t complete

itself how it might,

not that

everything small

is paltry, just

worry about

the rabbit for me

who’s in the yard

right now

under that fiery fox

that came

out of nowhere.

Shit, you left

the house

with a treat in your

hand as if you

understand foxes,

fox-gods, any

wild animal

in forms magical,

impossible.

Throw it away from

the rabbit, go to

the rabbit—

is that the plan,

the rescue that

paints you

hero, savior?

Well, the fox comes

right up and

bites your hand off.

How’s that, you

wonder, you

handless fiend?

The rabbit’s gone.

And the fox,

sated or feeling

bad about what

he’s done,

is off, down the hill,

flame going out,

feet touching

ground again,

slipping into

the gallop of every

four-legged animal

that comes

to about the knee,

his soft ears

turning

at the sound of

your voice

screaming

but starting to cry.

Every animal

nearby, you imagine,

is turning to listen

to you now.