英文小诗赏析：Cement Guitar

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英文小诗赏析：Cement Guitar

　　All morning I've remembered St. Ignacio's bruise，jaundiced seagulls over Quonset， November and the gross white sky. Days so long you walk home fifteen miles from the restaurant.
7 E2 Y2 R: E+ @# S　　Same waitress every day of your life and she never remembers your allergies.
. j; }: P4 E4 M/ O　　Nothing on the map but scone crumbs and a drop of tea. Just manifold food and a dead request to bury the last of your seven receipts.
　　Mother of foster-wit，father of straw，I can see how silence takes the place of those who cut their thoughts in stone before they need them.
　　Stone is the past，and the past is a form of flattery.
　　Last winter，groups of children sent letters in sadness for the late Christmas suicide.
, m4 ~! s/ J5 r) s  P- k　　Addressed to those who managed the fishery，who named the docks and decided the colors of unfinished boats，the only way to read them was alive.
( D9 }$ M1 @& M- K- E　　To think out loud about those children's names was to forget what you meant by dying.
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