Carl at Twelve, in Invercargill
You tear through the streets,
belly full of curried sausages,
a carton of eggs in one hand,
a radio coil in the other.
You fly across Dee Street.
The century-old beeches
cheer you on.
The grey-blue coastline, caught
between your fingers.
Briny oysters, opening and closing,
clip your gaze
to the southern waves.
The school bell jeers from afar.
That unruly breath
still rising in your chest,
you pull out your geography textbook
and duck your head into the desk—
in the dream there are oysters,
and matchstick men dueling.
十二岁的卡尔，在Invercargill
你风驰电掣
带着一肚子的咖喱香肠
左手是百货店的鸡蛋
右手是收音机的电磁圈
你飞奔过迪街
百年的山毛榉为你
唱歌助威
灰蓝色的海岸线夹在指缝
咸咸的牡蛎一张一合
将你的目光
扣向南方的海浪。
上课铃在远处嘲笑
肺腔呼出的那口不羁
你掏出了地理课本
把头钻进抽屉——
梦里有牡蛎
也有火柴小人的决斗