Solar Gold

Beyond thought,
love exists in the jungle.
Carnivorous plants swallow

the vast egg of lukewarm entrails.
Inscriptions speak secret terror,
eclipse earnest action.

My rite is a purifier of voices,
a canticle of blood woven
by an accursed heart.

I exorcise the liturgy
of dissonant love.
Centuries fall upon me.

I deepen myself in myself.
Unintelligible words trample God,
cornerstone of the earth.

Source: Lispector, Clarice. Água Viva. 1973. Translated by Stefan Tobler, New Directions, 2012, pp. 34-35.

Sean Woodard is an English PhD student at University of Texas at Arlington. He also serves as the Film Editor for Drunk Monkeys. His fiction and poetry has been featured in Screenshot Lit, Black Poppy Review, South Broadway Ghost Society, and NonBinary Review, among other publications.