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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Hannah Lowe - The Stork

The stork arrived alone one day,

beak sharpened like a bayonet.

All the love you’ve had turned bad! he sang,

eyes boring through the dingy nets.

He hopped onto the patio.

Good lord! Is this a rented flat?

 

                Behind the shed, albino rats

                were nuzzled on a family bed.

                He hovered over them, wings spread.

                Now this is how you do it! he said.

                He speared a worm and sucked it down.

                A rented flat, my god, he said.

 

Inside, I laid my hands around

my lump, my pumpkin-up-the-jumper.

I’d swapped the wine and cigarettes

for goji berries, spent the summer

asleep or stretched in yoga pose,

Utkatasana, Dhyana    ...    

 

                The stork came hopping round the corner

                scraped his claw across the door — 

                Hello, hello? he called, polite,

                then screamed I will not be ignored!

                He had a bloody bone to pick,

                an oozy piece of mind to share.

 

                                I was eight months gone by Halloween.

                                Kids rang the rented bell in sheets

                                and slime. I tried “maternal” out

                                with chocolate limes and fizzy sweets.

                                The bird shrieked half the witchy night:

                                For god’s sake, are you stupid? Teeth!

 

                I waddled off to pack my case — 

                gorillas snoozing on the onesies,

                pink booties, pads to catch the blood.

                When they tugged that baby out of me

                he came up laughing, blessed the midwife

                with a fiery arc of golden pee

 

and through the skylight of the ward

I saw the stork retreat, zigzagging

up into the evening sky,

a fading squawk, the beat of wings.

Then they laid that baby on my chest

to feed, and cut the navel string —