MULHERES DE HENRY MOORE NOS JARDINS Poem by Luiza Neto Jorge
MULHERES DE HENRY MOORE NOS JARDINS
O cheiro da chuva inquinou os jardins
mulheres de Henry Moore sorvem os ares.
E tu alvejas-me, filho, camuflado
na recôncava brandura desses seres.
"Morta! estás morta!" rejubilas.
Entre os mágicos projécteis à deriva,
já crisálidas, já arcas no dilúvio,
pedem paz elas num sossegado corpo
com a terra, seus regos, suas relvas.
Naves nossas de regresso ao solo?
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5/16/2024 2:10:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
