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.

Dana Constantinescu

Judi Benson

Si totusi pietrele

Casa se micsoreaza si se intinde,
Suspina noaptea scartaind dusumelele,
Acoperisul casei, cuibul ciorilor,
Lumina si aer, ziduri goale.
Am convenit la o felie de cer,
Nopti lenese, leganandu-se,
Gata cu munca de peste zi, ridicandu-ma
sa vad soarele, sa-l vad cum apune
inabusit de nori.
Unele legi ale firii inca mai persista.
Legea ierbii, dezamagirea ta,
Gratarul tau, nunta, rufele,
Sezlongul de pe punte, pupicuri, hartii.
Toate amanuntele. Lucruri.
Ce ar fi ele fara oameni
Decat niste relicve studiate de arheologi.
O panglica care rezista mai mult decat carnea, levantica impotriva lesinului.
Un smoc de par castaniu fara cap.
Pietre intr-un borcan, ale lui, ale ei.
Observatie: ale lui erau mai mari decat ale mamei lui.
Curiozitati menite sa te zapaceasca
In incercarea de a le da de cap.
Ce logica?
Da, tot mai duc pietre
La mormantul tau ca sa le incurc.
Rozalii, albastrii, granit.
Pietre de la Alderney, Carteret, Cromer,
Norwich, Aldeburgh, Duluth, Dartmoor, Leide,
Un bolovan de caldaram de la Praha
Pe care mi-ar placea sa cred ca Mozart s-a poticnit,
Sau pe care Kafka s-a impiedicat, care a injurat ca si mine,
Cand s-am impiedicat a treia oara.
Si a nu stiu cata oara, pe strazile mereu schimbatoare.