A thousand doors ago when I was a lonely kid in a big house with four garages and it was summer as long as I could remember, I lay on the lawn at night, clover wrinkling under me, the wise stars bedding over me, my mother’s window a funnel of yellow heat running out, my father’s window, half shut, an eye where sleepers pass, and the boards of the house were smooth and white as wax and probably a million leaves sailed on their strange stalks as the crickets ticked together and I, in my brand new body, which was not a woman’s yet, told the stars my questions and thought God could really see the heat and the painted light, elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.
Mille porte fa, quando ero una ragazza sola in una grande sala con quattro garage, una notte d’estate se ricordo bene, ero stesa sul prato e sotto di me, increspato il trifoglio. e sopra, distese, le stelle, e la finestra di papà, semichiusa, un occhio da cui passa chi dorme, e le assi della casa erano bianche e lisce come cera e milioni di foglie sbattevano, come vele sui loro strani gambi e i grilli ticchettavano tutti insieme e io, nel mio corpo nuovo fiammante, non ancora di donna, facevo domande alle stelle e pensavo che Dio vedesse veramente calore luce dipinta e gomiti ginocchia sogni buonanotte.
