the quick, precise arch in the air

a whip, the hand of a watch,

speaks. I hear

as tiny bright red spots fill the back of my eyes


the foul throat cannot pour out

for silk made hard [fastened tight]

renders unnecessary my unspeakable directions.




Author: claudiamay

claudiamay é formada em Letras pela Universidade Estadual de Ponta Grossa, Mestre e Letras - Inglês pela Universidade Federal de Santa Catarina, Doutoranda em Letras - Inglês pela UFSC.

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