Viramo-nos hoje para a poesia contemporânea norte-americana. Aqui vos deixo, da grande poetisa, professora universitária, exímia intérprete de sax , Joy Hargo - descendente directa dos índios Cherokee - e também celebrando o Festival Internacional do Puro Sangue Lusitano que aí está até ao final deste Sábado próximo em Cascais (entrada livre) este belo poema que, apesar de falar de cavalos, será sobre tudo menos os próprios cavalos
She had some horses.
She had horses who were bodies of sand.
She had horses who were maps drawn of blood.
She had horses who were skins of ocean water.
She had horses who were the blue air of sky
She had horses who were fur and teeth.
She had horses who were clay and would break.
She had horses who were splintered red cliff.
She had some horses.
She had horses with long, pointed breasts.
She had horses with full, brown thighs.
She had horses who laughed too much.
She had horses who threw rocks at glass houses
She had horses who licked razor blades.
She had some horses.
She had horses who danced in their mothers' arms
She had horses who thought they were the sun and their bodies shone and burnedlike stars.
She had horses who waltzed nightly on the moon.
She had horses who were much too shy, and kept quiet in stalls of their ownmaking.
She had some horses.
She had horses who liked Creek Stomp Dance songs.
She had horses who cried in their beer.
She had horses who spit at male queens who made them afraid of themselves.
She had horses who said they weren't afraid.
She had horses who lied.
She had horses who told the truth, who were stripped bare of their tongues.
She had some horses.
She had horses who called themselves, "horse."
She had horses who called themselves, "spirit."
and kept their voices secret and to themselves.
She had horses who had no names.
She had horses who had books of names.
She had some horses.
She had horses who whispered in the dark, who were afraid to speak.
She had horses who screamed out of fear of the silence,
who carried knives to protect themselves from ghosts.
She had horses who waited for destruction.
She had horses who waited for resurrection.
She had some horses.
She had horses who got down on their knees for any savior.
She had horses who thought their high price had saved them.
She had horses who tried to save her,
who climbed in her bed at night and prayed as they raped her.
She had some horses.
She had some horses she loved.
She had some horses she hated.
These were the same horses.
From SHE HAD SOME HORSES (Thunder's Mouth Press, 1983
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