Biography.
Amanda Vital is editorial assistant at Patuá, associate editor of Mallarmargens magazine and Master's student in Text Editing at Universidade Nova de Lisboa. Author of the book Passagem (Patuá, 2018). Has poems and translations in magazines, newspapers and literary supplements in Brazil and Portugal, in addition to publications in anthologies. He is technical assistant at the annual event Raias Poéticas: Afluentes Ibero-Afro-Americans of Art and Thought, curated by Luís Serguilha.
scalpel n.4
what a woman does in some poems beyond
being beautiful and silent? the poet describes her hair
her curves conjuring a woman just to
speak about beauty and soon close the doors because a
woman doesn’t enter into his political philosophical
metaphysical critical poems invokes a woman like a dog
on the couch when is necessary to warm up his feet
after a day of work but if the dog barks with disgust
in disapproval it isn’t permitted cause a good dog makes no sound
a dog & a woman: good only for these purposes
being beautiful silent and smooth preferably
while the poet writes under one or other disguise
nature or greek mythology or classic movies
his loud thirsty desire to fuck a woman
I finish this poem because I’ve been busy and I need to –
uncle
escape from the grip: dodge the body to the sides
run around the living room table imagine that
it’s the last lap hold tears amid the forced hug
cover the bathroom window with dirty clothes
pick the farthest seat dine avoiding raising
your head gaze at every kidney bean wait till
everyone stand to work out the precise second
to save myself between my father’s long legs
remember to never read comics facing down on the couch
never be alone in any room of that house
don’t take the risk of fingers piercing what
remains untouched silently try to sleep
and dream the skin freedom once the summer holidays are over
ruminate
my granny wasn’t afraid to stare at an ox’s face:
tamed animal anger with her eyes wide open in
the silent combat pupil against pupil but once
while pregnant with my mother she came in the shed
and an angry cow with her calf recently born pushed
the barrier up with her forehead and broke in her direction
my grant put her back against the wire and only
closed her eyes waiting for death or saying goodbye
to her children her husband to the poor about to be born baby
that has to go through awful things and haven’t thought in praying
cause in these moment even god doesn’t help to pacify instincts
or open the barrier started to feel drips on her face
the cow’s muzzle drizzling its territory
granny still said with staring eyes the cow lowered
its head smelling her motherly pregnant womb
inhaling coldness exhaling warmth they were good minutes
of smelling her womb till it turned and went back
to the stables with short steps it looked like a miracle
granny came back to a reality where a mother recognizes
another mother by the scent of her calf: my mother’s
mother wasn’t afraid of staring her eyes at
oxen breaking their will without blinking
but with cows calmness only came when maternal
Translated by Rafael Mendes
