o reino das flores
This wind break - the old chicken coop,
with windows done up like eyes
looking out as far as they can see
through sails of iris soft
and thin as garlic paper;
imperial cat S-weaving through the columbine,
her neat petal feet calibrated to the spaces between
those purple jester crowns
tipped in dew bells;
the kingdom of ants who circumnavigate
peony globes on streams of nectar;
and I ask, Who is the king of these?
Magellans on peaceful currents without ships
or an eye for stars and coasts,
with only endless curves
and tireless legs.
o reino das flores: the kingdom of flowers in Portuguese, Magellan's language
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