I walk out the kitchen door

我從廚房的門走出去

trailing extension cords into the open

把一根電線拖入空曠的

gaze of the Southwest—

西南部的凝視——

the green surreptitious,

綠色窸窸窣窣，

dusty like a trenchcoat.

像蒙著一層卡其布的灰。

From the beautiful lawnmower

美麗的割草機上

float curls of evaporated gasoline;

汽油一絲絲蒸發；

the hinged ax of the butterfly pauses.

蝴蝶停住它靈活的斧翼。

Where am I in the stingy

我是否存在於這一簇貧瘠的

desert broom, where

沙漠金雀花？還是

in the blank soul of the olive?

橄欖樹空洞的靈魂？

I hear the sand preparing to flee…

我聽見沙子預備逃跑的聲音……

Many still moments,

那麼多寂靜的時刻

aligned, repair

排列著，修補

the thin split of an afternoon—

下午的裂口——

its orange fiction, the dim

橘色的想像，帶著微弱的敵意

aggression of my daughter on the terrace drawing

女兒在露臺上描畫她心中

her idea of a home. Somewhere

家的模樣。不知何時

I learned to walk out of a thought

我學會從一個想法中出走

and not snap back the way

便不再像一節節火車廂那樣

railroad cars telescope into a train.

輕易地伸縮複原。

The sand flies so fast, it leaves no shadow.

沙子飛逝，來不及留下影子。