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.

Alina Bucurel

Maggie Sawkins
 

Armura

Dupa tine exista camin
si o camera care promite caldura
dar nu e caldura –
este un ceas cu maner
ale carui manose s-au oprit
putin peste miezul noptii
si un foc ale carui busteni ariticiali
stiu exact ceea ce sunt.

Este un pat intr-o camera
care promite liniste
dar nu e liniste deloc-
este un bec ce luceste
saizeci de wati prea puternic
si un desen de matisse
al unei femei dormind
acoperindu-si sanii cu bratele.

Apoi este somnul
si o luna ce atarna
in neant
leganand un calm ce spinteca la rasarit
iute ca un cutit
brazdand prin pielea
chiar daca groasa
ca platosa unui tatu.