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Poetry

Eyes set into the ridgepole,
the house peers down at the man.
Now and then the ears tremble,
Such sensitive, discerning walls:
love one minute,
invective the next,
then fist-pounding panic.
God is touched
by the house the man has made,
God whose eyes peer down
from the ridgepole of the world.
The house begs mercy for its owner
and his fantasies of good fortune.
Seeming impassive, it suffers.
The house is alive and speaks.

 

Translated from the Brazilian Portuguese by Ellen Doré Watson


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

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