柠檬之夏--玛乔丽.托姆森

那是柠檬的夏天
正逐步被橘子取代。柠檬，
它们说，已经丢掉了柠檬
有时丧失的东西。画家们
堆放上了脐橙和瓦伦西亚柑，
把红调配成黄为了画橙子的静物；
木质的美丽的碗带着寂寞的裂缝，
随着时间演进，带着触感。
傍晚，男人和女人们从比较大
的水果中用楔子压榨，暴风
吹过比目鱼。妈妈们把较甜的
果汁搅拌进油，雪莉醋，
碎大蒜中。海边，我们喷淋牡蛎
然后照例加上胡椒。在
没有柠檬的情况下，有一种
品尝新鲜的烧起来水的渴望，因没有煤气
用柑橘燃起火焰。切片像薄薄的太阳
被切割得适合细线边框，旋转高脚杯
和果酱罐的周长。就是此刻，酒瘾
七月比六月更甚，
我们都恢复到各自本人。
It was the summer of lemons
being replaced by oranges. Lemons,
they said, had lost something
that lemons sometimes lose. Painters
piled Navels and Valencias, mixed red
into yellow for Still Life with Oranges;
the wooden bowl beautiful with lonely
cracks, organic with time and handling.
Evening, men and women squeezed
wedges from the larger fruit, a squall
over flounder. Mothers whisked sweeter
juice into oil, sherry vinegar, crush
of garlic. Seaside, we sprayed oysters
then peppered as usual. In the absence
of lemons, there was a thirsting to taste
water kindled with novelty, set ablaze by
unplumbed citrus. Slices like thin suns
were cut to fit the rim line, to spin
the circumference of goblets and jam
jars. It was then, drinking
what was more July than June,
that we returned to each other.


“Summer of Lemons” by Marjorie Thomsen from Pretty Things Please. © Turning Point Press, 2017. Reprinted with permission.