Читать книгу Pluviophile - Yusuf Saadi - Страница 7

I know a star in Andromeda broke every colour in your heart. That you shivered yourself to sleep in a meteor’s crevice or moon’s crater whose dust is now my skin. Beyond my finitude you dream a wave and particle at once. Know I love the way you warm my fingers, pour gilt on my hardwood floors, bear the universe’s stories through bedroom windows. I wish I could touch you— not like two electrons repulsing, nor within the semiotics of language, but hold you how I hold a hand when I’m afraid— and close my eyes when you’re naked.