B.O. d`Amour I

Por Ana Paula Perissé

 

 

Imagem: Philippe Loubat

 

 

                                          (cala-te
                                          diante de tanta intensidade
                                          ébria.)

                                          lua que dantes fazia
                                          poesia de sopro
                                          em fá menor
                                          arrasta-se
                                          para lágrimas escondidas
                                          ao lado de 1´sobrado
                                          sem vinho
                                          apenas gota pequena
                                          e sem nome.

                                          agradecei
                                          à penumbra
                                          o vinho que te trouxe
                                          outrora
                                          dor temperada
                                          a germinar
                                          como num clarão
                                          de tempestade vulgar

                                          adormecei
                                          na grama
                                          junto ao exílio
                                          da terra
                                          à beira de mulheres
                                          errantes.