MAGGIE SAWKINS

Armour


After you there is home
and a room that promises warmth
but there is no warmth –
there is a carriage clock
with hands that have halted
at just past midnight
and a fire whose artificial logs
know just what they are.

There is a bed in a room
that promises peace
but there is no peace –
there is a bulb that shines
sixty watts too strong
and a drawing by Matisse
of a woman sleeping
shielding her breasts with her arms.

Then there is sleep
and a moon that hangs
in the middle of nowhere
cradling a calm that cuts at dawn
swift as a knife
slicing through skin
that thought it had grown
plate-thick as an armadillo.

Mihaela Roxana Bocicai

Maggie Sawkins
 

Armura

In urma ta ramane un camin
Si o camera ce promite caldura
Dar nu-i deloc caldura –
E un ceas de epoca
Cu maini care s-au oprit
Chiar dupa miezul noptii
Si un foc, ai carui busteni artificiali
Stiu exact ce sunt.

Este un pat intr-o camera
Care promite pace
Dar nu-i pace deloc –
E un bec care straluceste
Cu 60 de wati prea puternic
Si o schita de Matisse
Cu o femeie dormind
Aparandu-si sanii cu bratele.

Si apoi e somnul
Si o luna care atarna
In mijlocul pustietatii
Leganand un calm care se inchieie in zori
Rapid ca un cutit
Care taie din piele
Chiar daca groasa
Ca un armadillo (tatu).