SUSANA'S BATH Poem by Nuno Júdice

Between her and the water, a thread
of gold. Then, she turns off the light, and
the gold becomes silver, and the silver
evaporates in shadow. It's just
her that's left, motionless, beneath the sky
where the stars are eyes, and the
moon a reflection of her skin.

But she turns the light back
on, as though she wanted
them to see her. And when she looks
into the mirror, she discerns the beauty
of her body which she puts to
dancing, as she undresses
and all of the stars shine
like eyes eager for life.

Then, turning off the water,
she slips into the tub. And the old men
leap out from behind the curtains, from
out of the canebrakes, from beneath
the grass, down from the canopies
as she, with her back to them,
scrubs her skin with the sponge
of those ranging eyes.