Judi Benson

And Still the Stones
 

The house shrinks and stretches,
sighs at night creaking the floorboards,
top of the house, crow's nest,
light and air, walls bare.
Slice of heaven we agreed,
lazy rocking evenings,
day's work done, ascending
to meet the sun, watch it go down
in a smother of clouds.
Some laws of nature still persist.
Sod's law, the rain on your parade,
your barbecue, wedding, laundry,
deck chair, bacci, papers.
The minutiae of it all. Things.
What are they without people
but relics to be studied by archaeologists.
A ribbon surviving flesh, faint lavender.
A shank of auburn hair without a head.
Gallstones in a jar, his and hers.
Note: his were bigger than his mum's.
Curiosities to be puzzled over
trying to put it all together. What sense?
Yes, I still take stones
to your grave site to confuse them.
Pink toned, blue grey, granite.
Stones from Alderney, Carteret, Cromer,
Norwich, Aldeburgh, Duluth, Dartmoor, Leide,
a cobblestone from Praha
that I'd like to think Mozart stubbed his toe on,
that tripped Kafka, who swore as I did,
the third time round. Round and round,
lost amongst the ever changing streets.

Silvia Niculae

Judi Benson
 

Si totusi pietrele

Casa se micsoreaza si se mareste,
suspina noaptea facand podelele sa scartaie,
pe acoperisul casei – cuibul unei ciori,
lumina si aer, peretii goi.
Un colt de rai, asa ziceam noi.
lungi seri petrecute in balansoar,
munca unei zile incheiata, inaltandu-ne
pentru a intampina soarele, apoi privindu-l coborand
intr-un palc de nori.
Unele legi ale naturii tot mai dainuie.
Legea pamantului, ploaia care-ti strica parada,
Petrecerea, nunta, rufele puse la uscat
sezlongul, tutunul drag, hartiile.
Toate lucrurile marunte. Lucruri.
Ce inseamna ele in absenta oamenilor
doar relicve pentru studiul arheologilor.
O panglica lila deschis ce a supravietuit trupului.
O bucla castaniu - roscat care nu mai apartine unui cap.
Pietre biliare intr-un borcan, ale lui si ale ei.
Nota: ale lui erau mai mari decat ale mamei sale.
Curiozitati care sa ne mire
incercand sa le recompunem povestea. Au ele un rost?
Da, eu tot mai aduc pietre
la mormantul tau pentru a le amesteca.
Tonuri de roz, albastru cenusiu, granit.
Pietre din Alderney, Carteret, Cromer,
Norwich, Alderburgh, Duluth, Dartmoon, Leide,
O piatra de pavaj din Praga
de care imi place sa cred ca Mozart s-a impiedicat
la fel si Kafka, injurand la fel ca mine
cand s-a intamplat pentru a treia oara. Continui sa ma rotesc
pierduta pe strazile mereu schimbatoare.