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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Slow Motion - Petra Müller

You await me always at the end of my sentences.
You are like death: I am
always moving towards you,
an infinity of inches.

 

Surfaces count. I will get to know you
in blindness and slime, like a slug
when it knows the earth at last,
that is, from belly up.

 

There is a moment, not due yet,
when I shall turn you into me
with a gentle, inward gesture.

 

Now that I have taught my eyes to read
my own meandering script
I see that I carried your name in legible letters
from the bloody slew of birth.
It was a long time coming.

 

There is something about time
which I must describe here with my hand
clutched round a pen: It can happen to one
in the shape of a man.

 

(Via Poetry International)

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