sexta-feira, janeiro 18, 2008:

The Liberator

Keys turning

rattling in the loose locks

opening high the doors

that close again

like death-hours coming faster

the walls are white

and the line of beds is staring

all the bars go up and down

and none of them lead outward

and leaping eyes

and stiff limbs

follow the crunch of the keys

I am powerful now

and I will break those that carry the keys

with little hammers

small hammers

which you will make for me

and hide in the porridge

I will break all their heads

and lay them in neat rows

and we shall wave high the keys

and open wide a million doors

and all of us shall dance in the snow

and that poor woman in the spiral casket

shall warm a wooden doll to her dress

and lean her hair in the fire

the grating shall be taken from about the fire

and the woman and the keys shall go within

all of us

shall

dance

within

Emily Holmes Coleman ( Canadian poetry of 3o decade)

Claudia "In Stereo" // 9:59 PM

______________________