The Grotto¹
Fanny Howe

Let's make believe we're lying
 together on our backs.
 The lumps（肿块） in the floor are dirt and grass
 and the blackbirds（画眉） tickle² us with their claws
 until we chirp³ and laugh.

This is fearlessness.

The sky wears no bells, no paper hats
 but shawls crawl up the mountain rocks
 piece by piece, and even under
 night's weight
 we still are not afraid.

The shawls are dragging themselves across the slate⁴
 that soon will cover our feet.
 Black lace, black wool on the reeks⁵（臭气，烟） .

I am now upstairs and you are down
 in a white-washed cottage
 packed in salt and wind.
 The rooster's crow is not against the law.

Pretend we stamp the sand onto the floor,
 then sweep away the crumbs⁶ and ticks.
 Seagulls dock on the windowsills
 and we spread the moon on a tablecloth⁷.

You sip⁸ cold water from a silver glass.
 I climb back upstairs with a hot water bag.
 Tomorrow I get everything we need.
 I mean today. I did.