二手徵求有驚喜
哀悼隨筆（節錄）
給盧卡斯
I. 關於為黑色虎斑小貓愛思掘墳慕，
2016年10月
「『苦──苦』，他回答；
『但我喜歡
因為苦，
而且因為這是我的心。』」
──史提芬，葛倫
晴朗的一天，一年裹的這個時節，
陽光在樹籬上，一隻孤獨的
雀鷹在小牧場上。
要挖掘這片土地很艱難，隨後越來越難：
六英寸探，我要回去取鋤
從泥土中撬開較大的石頭；
然後，攤開放好用毯子織造的裹屍布
我們在無言中完成工作，僅僅
停下一兩次
估算深度，喘口氣。
無話要說，你捏碎一把壤土，
讓它在你手中變暖，
把它撒落在我們一起用濕冷黑暗的碎土
瞎造起來的墳墓，
過了一會，我跟著，尊重沉默。
無話要說，但在我的腦海深處，
記起一則舊廣告的聲音，
每一首歌的新耶路撒冷
母親都讓我隨之起舞
粉紅色紙屑在我的恤衫上
最新相識的女子
是我臂彎裹的嵌合亮片──毫無
道理，但恰好足夠
抵觸那個五十年代的故事
關於她的婚紗上的
薰衣草和石腦油，她袖子的空洞
比我末曾見過的新娘更像鬼魅。
An Essay on Mourning（excerpt）
for Lucas
I On Digging a grave for Oxy,
A black tabby kitten, October 2016
“It is bitter - bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”
──Stephen Crane
A fair day, for this time of year,
sun on the hedge trees, a lone
sparrow-hawk over the paddock.
Digging on this ground is hard, and then it gets harder:
six inches down, I have to go back for a pick
to prise the larger stones out of the clay;
and then, with the blanket-weave shroud laid out in the open,
we finish the job in silence, only
stopping once or twice
to estimate the depth and catch our breath.
With nothing to say, you crumble a fistful of loam
so it warms in your hands,
and sprinkle the grave we’ve contrived
with the raw, dark crumbs;
and, after a moment, I follow, respecting the silence.
Nothing to say, but far at the back of my head,
a voice from an old commercial, calling to mind
the New Jerusalem of every song
my mother made me dance to, pink
confetti on my shirt, the latest girl
a chimera of sequins in my arms—nothing that made
any sense, but just enough
to contradict the ’50s narrative
of lavender and naphtha in
her wedding dress, the hollow of her sleeves
more ghostlike than the bride I never saw.
2024專利防護中