Portrait...

The rare smile.
The half-laugh more like a smile
and never really laughter.
(Like one who carries with her
the awareness of a
step-mother world.)

Arms glued
to either side,
you move through the city
vulgar and sublime
with the same air of aloofness
you chose by being born
in ...

The metallic eyes
through which you observe the world
 learned with Itabira to see
without hatred or expression,
sometimes with revulsion.

Iron of Itabira
in whose recesses
a prospector,
one day,
a prospector-the grandson-
discovered early on
the deep springs,
the vein,
the calm of
hidden love.