Incêndio

                                                            Tu acendes a chama
                                                            do meu corpo
                                                            pões a lenha ao fundo
                                                            em sítio seco

                                                            Procuras no desejo
                                                            o ponto certo
                                                            e convocas aí
                                                            o lume aberto

                                                            Se a madeira demora
                                                            a ganhar fogo
                                                            tomas-me as pernas
                                                            e deitas lento o vinho

                                                            Riscas os fósforos todos
                                                            e depois,
                                                            é mais um incêndio
                                                            que adivinho

                                                                          Maria Teresa Horta