婚姻

【美】艾米·格斯特勒  　陈子弘 译

　　浪漫映在一把勺子上，是个小而弯曲的世界。脆弱得像一张白纸。为何开始？为何玷污、揉皱这好端端的表面？有诸多理由，感官的诱惑、纾解的渴望、好奇的驱使，抑或这就是你的使命。你或许责怪那交配的本能：用屎黄色木头雕的一个矮小神祇。不不不，它并不肮脏。欲望的困境，渴求相伴、嬉戏、交缠和迷失；直到被擦拭成锃亮如新的器皿，一把刻有姓名缩写的黄油刀，现代款式或传家宝。这是一个瘟疫与堕落的时代，臭氧层婚纱撕裂的时代。人们必须尽其所能自求安慰。他想让她咬他，轻咬。她只想喝一夸脱水，早早上床。这便是我说的动人约会。在伏都教中，信徒可与神成婚。有些修女嫁给耶稣，但首先得削去秀发。他怕自己会纠缠其中，绊倒跌跤。被击倒，迷失。你的脸美丽而粗砺如墓碑。我吻它，我愿意。

　　在更务实的时代许多新娘的面纱后来成了她们的裹尸布。履行完母性职责后，人们对她们致以最后敬意，墓穴里摆放着花圈、香烛和绸缎。在印度，童婚很普遍。下午一队早夭的孩子穿过你的画室来斥责闭眼不看世界的丰饶。但他们近到足以看清你额头上的字迹，才明白你不过做了必要之事。于是他们匆匆跑出去，祝福你的车，你那杂草丛生的草坪和你前院那低垂的银丝树。

　　他的候见室挤满了虔诚的异教徒，牧师把他们一个个召他们进办公室辅导。曾几何时，你在餐馆里用叉子戳我，那是你对我的爱抚。那些日子，任何拥抱都是种折磨。在这本百科全书的图片里，东方新娘的头饰像纸船。图注说：“日本的婚礼是正式而庄重的仪式。”哦，新娘，在减肥药、茶、米饭和奎宁的海洋里被喂养、被安置，你能指引我吗？水流湍急吗？有桥吗？这古老的分数如何计算：你除以我？分子先生压在分母小姐之上？我俩被诗篇的一行，一条分歧的思路和你紧闭双唇那薄薄的血线分开。婚礼结束时，宾客常抛撒米粒或旧鞋。你刮得很干净，帅哥。差点被飞来的军靴砸昏，而你的朋友们仍在蚊帐下若无其事地交谈。你从未认出我，亲爱的，但我一眼便知是你。我一眼便认出我的命运。可若在适当的“我愿意”之前对视，便是厄运。所以别看了。即使隔着这还在扩大的鸿沟，房间变得巨大，我吻你新旧的伤口。我吻你。我愿意。

译注：
1.伏都教（Voodoo Religion）起源于 1700 年左右的蛇崇拜。其重要组成部分是舞蹈、音乐和最多样化的仪式。在仪式中，舞者在一种恍惚的催眠节奏中起舞，有时看起来有点恐怖。仪式还会使用对伏都教非常重要的各种具有象征意义的物品。如蜡烛、食物、金钱、护身符、仪式项链、仪式响尾蛇、天主教圣徒的图像、朗姆酒瓶、气泡、旗帜、鼓、圣石和刀。

诗人简介：艾米·格斯特勒（Amy Gerstler，1956- ），当代美国诗人。她1978年毕业于培泽学院（Pitzer College），2000年在本宁顿学院（Bennington College）获文学硕士学位。她现为加州大学欧文分校艺术硕士写作课程的教授。此前，她曾在本宁顿写作研讨会项目、加利福尼亚州帕萨迪纳艺术中心设计学院和南加州大学专业写作硕士项目任教。《洛杉矶时报》称之为“我国最好的诗人之一”。2010年任《最佳美国诗选》客座编辑。现居加州洛杉矶。

AMY GERSTLER

Marriage

Romance is a world, tiny and curved, reflected in a spoon. Perilous as clean sheet of paper. Why begin? Why sully and crumple a perfectly good surface? Lots of reasons. Sensuality, need for relief, curiosity. Or it's your mission. You could blame the mating instinct: a squat little god carved from shit-colored wood. NO NO NO. It's not dirty. The plight of desire, a longing to consort, to dally, bend over, lose yourself; be rubbed till you're shiny as a new minted utensil. A monogrammed butter knife, modern pattern or heirloom. It's a time of plagues and lapses, rips in the ozone layer's bridal veil. One must take comfort in whatever lap one can. He wanted her to bite him, lightly. She wanted to drink a quart of water and get to bed early. Now that's what I call an exciting date. In the voodoo religion, believers can marry their gods. Some nuns wed Jesus, but they have to cut off all their hair first. He's afraid he'll tangle in it, trip and fall. Be laid low. Get lost. Your face, lovely and rough as a gravestone. I kiss it. I do.

In a more pragmatic age many brides' veils later served as their burying shrouds. After they'd paid their dues to mother nature, they commanded last respects. Wreaths, incense and satin in crypts. In India marriage of children is common. An army of those who died young march through your studio this afternoon to rebuke you for closing your eyes to the fullness of the world. But when they get close enough to read what's written on your forehead, they realize you only did what was necessary. Then they hurriedly skip outside to bless your car, your mangy lawn and the silver floss tree which bows down in your front yard.

His waiting room is full of pious heathens and the pastor calls them into his office for counseling, two by two. Once you caressed me in a restaurant by poking me with a fork. In those days, any embrace was a strain. In the picture in this encyclopedia, the oriental bride's headdress looks like a paper boat. The caption says "Marriage in Japan is a formal, solemn ceremony."O bride fed and bedded down on a sea of dexatrim, tea, rice and quinine, can you guide me? Is the current swift? Is there a bridge? What does this old fraction add up to: you over me? Mr. Numerator on top of Miss Denominator? The two of us divided by a line from a psalm, a differing line of thinking, the thin bloodness line of your lips pressed together. At the end of the service guests often toss rice or old shoes. You had a close shave, handsome. Almost knocked unconscious by a flying army boot, while your friends continued to converse nonchalantly under the canopy of mosquito netting. You never recognized me, darling, but I knew you right away. I know my fate when I see it. But it's bad luck to lay eyes on each other before the appropriate kiss you. I do. moment. So look away. Even from this distance, and the chasm is widening, the room grows huge, I kiss your old and new wounds. I kiss you. I do.

                                        from New American Writing