Eunice De Souza's poetry is a sculpture carved in words. Such measured words, such incisive breaks, so much feeling and emotion. As if the smallest of movement in her life or around is acutely scrutinized for meanings one cannot see with the naked eye (you know what I mean, right?). Yet, there's never a moment of self-indulgence. There's always humour, and a readiness to laugh at everything absurd that's called life.
Don't Look for My Life in These Poems
Poems have order, sanity
aesthetic distance from debris.
All I've learnt from pain
I always knew,
but could not do.
-----
Eunice
Eunice, Embroidery Sister said
this petticoat you've cut
these seams
are worthy of an elephant
my dear
Silly bra-less bitch
Eunice is writing bad words sister
she's sewing up her head
for the third time sister
the limbs keep flopping
the sawdust keeps popping
out of the gaps
sister.
-----
Bequest
In every Catholic home there's a picture
of Christ holding his bleeding heart
in his hand.
I used to think, ugh.
the only person with whom
I have not exchanged confidences
is my hairdresser.
Some recommend stern standards,
others say float along.
He says, take it as it comes,
meaning, of course, as he hands it out.
I wish I could be a
Wise Woman
smiling endlessly, vacuously
like a plastic flower,
saying Child, learn from me.
It's time to perform an act of charity
to myself,
bequeath the heart, like a
spare kidney-
preferably to an enemy.
