sexta-feira, 20 de março de 2009


Because there was no other place
to flee to,
I came back to the scene of the disordered senses,
came back last night at midnight,
arriving in the thick June night
without luggage or defenses,
giving up my car keys and my cash,
keeping only a pack of Salem cigarettes
the way a child holds on to a toy.
I signed myself in where a stranger
puts the inked-in X's -
for this is a mental hospital,
not a child's game.

Anne Sexton - Flee on Your Donkey, Selected Poems of Anne Sexton

Obrigada, Henrique, pela partilha desse prazer na tua prosa, poesia, nos desenhos das filhas.

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