Pokrewne

Start
Coulter Catherine Panna mloda Posazna panna mloda
Coulter Catherine Panna mloda Panna mloda z piekla rodem
Coulter Catherine Piesn 002 Piesn ognia
Coulter Catherine Piesn 001 Piesn wojownika
Coulter Catherine Gwiazda 004 Gwiazda z nefrytu
Banks Cliff Szczury tunelowe Szczury tunelowe
Catherine Harris The Family Men (v5.0) (epub) id
Catherine Webb [Horatio Lyle The Obsidian Dagger (epub)
Catherine Coulter [Baron 02] The Offer (retail) (epub)
Catherine Asaro [Skolian Empi Ascendant Sun (epub)

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.The blackbird satIn the cedar-limbs.stanza ithe only moving thingThe stage is dimly lit.MARGARET is in bed completely hidden under the duvet.Into the darkness comes the sound of MARGARET gasping to catch her breath.Her grief leads to a wail in a pattern of a woman coming to a sexual climax—it is the sound of death and sex.WALLACE sits at his desk in the dark, smoking a cigarette.As the wail begins to taper he snaps on the desk lamp.He puts out the cigarette in a heavy crystal ashtray.He unscrews his fountain pen and begins to write on the pad of legal paper before him.The light on WALLACE fades as it comes up on MARGARET’s bed—but still it is early morning—the dawn is only now breaking.MARGARET surfaces and searches around under the covers until she finds and pulls out a well-worn copy of The Palm at the End of the Mind.She props herself up with pillows, opens the book at random but she can’t concentrate.Finally she throws the book to the floor.Some of the pages scatter and MARGARET gets out of bed, stuffing the pages randomly into the book.As she reaches for a page under the bed her hand brushes a white shoebox.She opens the shoebox, pulling out a beautiful beaded sari shawl of red silk.Slowly MARGARET wraps the shawl around her shoulders but is overwhelmed with its effect on her and she releases it.MARGARET begins to pace the room until she is pacing under and around the spiral staircase.She stops, looking up.The sun is rising above WALLACE.It is the moment before the sun reaches the horizon.The red and orange light filters down between the floorboards, lighting MARGARET.MARGARET makes a fist and pounds on the unseen door.The sound is huge and echoes.MARGARET: Is there anybody there?WALLACE stirs.There is the sound of a bird flying up and away.The sound is loud and echoes with MARGARET knocking on the door a second time.Is there anybody there?She stands listening intently as she looks up.I came.You didn’t answer.I kept my word.MARGARET walks away.The scraping of WALLACE pushing back his chair stops her.She stands waiting as he descends the staircase, his footsteps measured and heavy with disapproval.MARGARET often does not look at him.He is her personal haunt.As he speaks the light changes to normal sunlight.WALLACE: (painfully) “The Listeners?”MARGARET: I can’t… think.WALLACE: It has been quite some time, Margaret.I almost didn’t come.Nice touch, the sound effects I mean.MARGARET: Since the call… I haven’t been able to think.WALLACE: But still (dismissive) Walter de la Mare.(sighs)MARGARET: I can’t think… Except for…WALLACE absorbs her thought.WALLACE: The only moving thingMARGARET: Not now… No… I don’t want to think of that now.WALLACE: Good line that.MARGARET: Blackbirds, blackbirds, blackbirds!Why did you choose me?WALLACE: (moan) That again.MARGARET: You can’t help me.WALLACE: Not me.Never Wallace Stevens, lawyer, vice president of the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company.MARGARET: The poet, the Pulitzer Prize winner for poetry, 1955!WALLACE: Oh that man can’t help you whatsoever.MARGARET: Blackbirds then? Fucking blackbirds then?WALLACE: What horrible thought are you hiding, Magpie?MARGARET: Stop it.My husband—WALLACE: —long-dead to you—MARGARET: —has been killed in a—!WALLACE: —yes.In a tragic traffic accident.So why sex, Magpie?MARGARET: No.No!WALLACE: Sex.MARGARET moves about, restless with the possibility of this idea.MARGARET: The poem cannot be reduced to epigrams…WALLACE: …nor ideas.WALLACE & MARGARET: Sensations.WALLACE: The first time, Margaret.MARGARET: What, that I read it?WALLACE: You felt it.MARGARET: Answer my question first.WALLACE: Why you?MARGARET: Yes.WALLACE: You will get to the end.MARGARET: Ha.WALLACE: Yes.Of everything.He goes up the stairs.MARGARET: You chose poorly!MARGARET goes out of the house, facing a cold wind.She pauses.(whispers) Among twenty snowy mountains,The only moving thingWas the eye of the blackbird.WALLACE: (formally) Among twenty snowy mountains,MARGARET: The only moving thingWALLACE: Was the eye of the blackbird.MARGARET wants to walk but she can’t begin.What is it you are waiting for?MARGARET: I love this moment.WALLACE: Yes?MARGARET: This is the purest moment.The moment before the pen drops to the page to begin.WALLACE: But that is a lie.It has already begun.It begins with the first thought.MARGARET walks.MARGARET: I remember that feeling… not that we had invented it… clearly there was sex in the world before we came together a bit drunkenly the first time, first date.If I stood, feet planted firmly on the bed and looked back, sex rises like a mountain range back through all of time.A chain of sexual peaks—WALLACE groans.Bad pun noted, Mr.Stevens.Food, shelter, sex that’s our only history.So we didn’t invent sex.We had been dating a few weeks when he had to go to India.Not for work but his sister’s wedding.I was working, I was beginning to work on my thesis.WALLACE: “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.”MARGARET: Stanza one.I was glad of the time alone, the time to think, to work.The day he came home… when I returned from TA’ing he was already waiting naked in my bed.He had brought a gift in a white box, a beautiful sari shawl of red silk like the women there are draped in on their wedding day.When I was naked and on top of him, his neck tasting of curry and cinnamon, he wrapped me in the silk… I felt wrapped in a membrane of…… why can’t I find beautiful words?MARGARET stops.This is nothing like a poem.I’ve waited too long.The words have flown, no, they are too heavy to fly.WALLACE: Sensation, Margaret.MARGARET walks on.MARGARET: This was the sensation.That no two people had ever fit together as our bodies did at that moment.I lay on the bed as he moves in me, the whole of the world outside frozen.The only thing is the movement of him inside of me.We are the only ones in the world since the beginning of time to move so.Achingly beautifully our bodies fit together so perfectly that to take them apart is to hear the sound of unlocking.MARGARET makes a soft popping sound with her lips—rhythmically echoing the love-making in her head.She stops.And then as we both climax… surely there is a better word for that moment… my heart moves.My language is leaving me.My heart… moves… in my chest as it has never before.She pauses at the door.John, I lay beside you, beside you, my lips glazing your ear and I whisper,Among twenty snowy mountains,The only moving thingWas the eye of the blackbird.MARGARET hurries back to her bedroom.She buries her face in the sari shawl and weeps—no sound, only the movements of weeping.WALLACE returns to his desk and his writing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]