segunda-feira, 18 de fevereiro de 2013

De In Place Of

The Fence

at the border of this field is a fence
or section of fence   attached at it is
   to nothing but miles of invisible
fence   today you wear a red skirt   a red
sweater    and try to square your hips  against
a memory of fence and field   try to
imagine or remember   wet feet sucked
into new boots   or was it dry   it was
twenty years ago   now you find
   a smell of petrol in the turf   cold sky
   recollection   at the edge of purpose

Angus Sinclair em Dear World & Everyone in It: New Poetry in the UK, Nathan Hamilton (ed.), Bloodaxe Books, 2013. 

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