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The plane aterriza
in soft grass. O verde se mistura
com a mirage of the asphalt.

Granito, granite.

Ela tenta controlar the destiny
in this foreign place.

The red purse weights
and the couro is soft.

It’s what she’s left
crossing borders, her papers,
precisão de nomes.

But not her future.


Poema publicado em Zona de Carga/Loading Zone.