Рет қаралды 16,209
Looking For A Cousin On A Swing
- A.K. Ramanujan
When she was four or five
she sat on a village swing
and her cousin, six or seven,
sat himself against her;
with every lunge of the swing
she felt him
in the lunging pits
of her feeling;
and afterwards
we climbed a tree, she said,
not very tall, but full of leaves
like those of a fig tree,
and we were very innocent
about it.
Now she looks for the swing
in cities with fifteen suburbs
and tries to be innocent
about it
not only on the crotch of a tree
that looked as if it would burst
under every leaf
into a brood of scarlet figs
if someone suddenly sneezed.