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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Tracy K. Smith - Wade in the Water

                 for the Geechee Gullah Ring Shouters

 

One of the women greeted me.

I love you, she said. She didn't

Know me, but I believed her,

And a terrible new ache

Rolled over in my chest,

Like in a room where the drapes

Have been swept back. I love you,

I love you, as she continued

Down the hall past other strangers,

Each feeling pierced suddenly

By pillars of heavy light.

I love you, throughout

The performance, in every

Handclap, every stomp.

I love you in the rusted iron

Chains someone was made

To drag until love let them be

Unclasped and left empty

In the center of the ring.

I love you in the water

Where they pretended to wade,

Singing that old blood-deep song

That dragged us to those banks

And cast us in. I love you,

The angles of it scraping at

Each throat, shouldering past

The swirling dust motes

In those beams of light

That whatever we now knew

We could let ourselves feel, knew

To climb. O Woods—O Dogs—                       

O Tree—O Gun—O Girl, run

O Miraculous Many Gone—

O Lord—O Lord—O Lord—

Is this love the trouble you promised?

Tracy K. Smith - Sci-Fi

There will be no edges, but curves.

Clean lines pointing only forward.

 

History, with its hard spine & dog-eared

Corners, will be replaced with nuance,

 

Just like the dinosaurs gave way

To mounds and mounds of ice.

 

Women will still be women, but

The distinction will be empty. Sex,

 

Having outlived every threat, will gratify

Only the mind, which is where it will exist.

 

For kicks, we'll dance for ourselves

Before mirrors studded with golden bulbs.

 

The oldest among us will recognize that glow—

But the word sun will have been re-assigned

 

To the Standard Uranium-Neutralizing device

Found in households and nursing homes.

 

And yes, we'll live to be much older, thanks

To popular consensus. Weightless, unhinged,

 

Eons from even our own moon, we'll drift

In the haze of space, which will be, once

 

And for all, scrutable and safe.

Tracy K. Smith - Semi-Splendid

You flinch. Something flickers, not fleeing your face. My
Heart hammers at the ceiling, telling my tongue
To turn it down. Too late. The something climbs, leaps, is
Falling now across us like the prank of an icy, brainy
Lord. I chose the wrong word. I am wrong for not choosing
Merely to smile, to pull you toward me and away from
What you think of as that other me, who wanders lost among ...    
Among whom? The many? The rare? I wish you didn’t care.

 

I watch you watching her. Her very shadow is a rage
That trashes the rooms of your eyes. Do you claim surprise
At what she wants, the poor girl, pelted with despair,
Who flits from grief to grief? Isn’t it you she seeks? And
If you blame her, know that she blames you for choosing
Not her, but me. Love is never fair. But do we — should we — care?