“The door had a double lock, 

and the joke was on me. 

You might call it protection 

against self, this joke, 

and it wasn’t very funny: 

I kept the door locked 

in order to think twice. 

The room itself: knickknacks, 

chairs, and a couch, 

the normal accoutrements. 

And yet it was an empty room, 

if you know what I mean. 

I had a ticket in my head: 

Anytime, it said, another joke. 

How I wished I had a deadline 

to leave the empty room, 

or that the corridor outside 

would show itself 

to be a secret tunnel, perhaps 

a winding path. Maybe I needed 

a certain romance of departure 

to kick in, as if I were waiting 

for magic instead of courage, 

or something else 

I didn’t have. No doubt 

you’re wondering if other people 

inhabited the empty room. 

Of course. What’s true emptiness 

without other people? 

I thought twice many times. 

But when I left, I can’t say 

I made a decision. I just followed 

my body out the door, 

one quick step after another, 

even as the room started to fill 

with what I’d been sure wasn’t there.”

(Stephen Dunn)

In:

Literatura Do Desassossego