Laura de Jesus

 

A coffee in the wake of summer

(on a break from Doce Ferreira)

It's not an invitation, but a ritual

To be alive (...)

In routines we read so much of ourselves

And if the sun still invites 

when crossing legs, 

I stretch out the tiredness I bring

Than I sleep. 

Insomnia crossed me

Still the faint moon,

It allowed itself to be whitish 

the nocturnal.

The Bird That Hangs 

On my shoulder

In a stroke of luck

Comes evoking shelter

Scaring away death,

In a triuna concert

- A moist croissant, water

Oh yes the caffeine

And the men who await me 

The Secil cement, the sand in the latrine.

Everything runs through our veins, 

The woman, the girl 

and the damn nicotine