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.

Cristina Nistor

Judi Benson
 

Si totusi pietrele

Casa intra la apa si se-ntinde
ofteaza noaptea scirtiind podeaua,
podul casei, cuibul ciorii,
lumina si aer, peretii goi.
O bucatica de rai, ne-am pus de-acord,
seri lenese in balansoar,
dupa o zi de munca, urcind
la intilnirea cu soarele, privindu-l cum coboara
intr-un fum gros de nori.
Unele legii ale naturii persista.
Legea pamintului, sa-ti ploua la parada,
la gratar, la nunta, peste rufe,
sezlonguri, tutun, ziare.
Detalii neinsemnate. Lucruri.
Ce sint ele fara oameni,
doar relicve de studiat pentru arheologi.
O panglica ce-a supravietuit stapinei, parfum slab de levantica.
Un rest de par roscat, fara de cap.
Calculi biliari intr-un borcan, ai lui si-ai ei.
Nota: ai lui sint mai mari decit ai mamei sale.
Curiozitati cu care sa-ti bati mintea,
incercind sa le pui cap la cap. Ce rost are?
Da, inca mai duc pietre
la mormintul tau, ca sa ii derutez.
Roz,gri petrol, granit.
Pietre din Alderney, Carteret, Cromer,
Norwich, Aldeburgh, Duluth, Dartmoor, Leide,
o piatra de pavaj din Praga
in care, imi place sa-mi imaginez, s-a poticnit Mozart,
sau care i-a pus piedica lui Kafka, de-a-njurat ca mine,
cind m-am lovit de ea pentru a treia oara. Mergeam in cerc,
pierdut pe strazile de-a pururi schimbatoare.