Carta ao P (17)

And sometimes I feel as if, already,
I am not here-to stand in his thirty-year
sight, and not in love's sight,
I feel an invisibility
like a neutron in a cloud chamber buried in a mile-long
accelerator, where what cannot
be seen is inferred by what the visible

Excerto do poema Unspeakable, de Sharon Olds.

(It is lo and behold.)

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