from each lens, let my face
look out a window to see
the world as she did, and saw
a gray blur become a barn,
apples emerge from green sleeves
of branches, and told no one.
Charley Starnes
After the woods a sudden
swoon of light in a clearing
and I am where I was then,
that summer morning I brought
food to Charley Starnes who drank
rotgut whiskey so he might
douse the memory of gas
searing his lungs, the bullet
that almost opened his heart.
Say sir, my grandmother said,
gave me the tin of biscuits,
mason jar of soup before
I walked the fence line and through
the woodshed’s board-gaps watched him
sway back and forth before flames
that seemed fueled by his curses,
and what burned inside the drum
I never knew, but left all
I’d brought on the porch, then fled
the place where six months later
sleeve or shirttail dipped too close
and Charley Starnes wore a suit
of flames through barbed wire, into
a corn field where they found him
face down like a felled scarecrow,
shattered stalks marking his swerve
and lunge through rows as though
a man trying to dodge fire.
Watauga County: 1959
On Clay Ridge a crescent moon
balanced itself, soon became
an open parenthesis
no father, uncle could close
as we hunched on farmhouse steps,
wore Sunday clothes days early,
what conversation the rasp
of matches. Small blades of flame
rose to faces no tears marked
as I heard silence widen
like fish swirls on a calm pond,
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
