Merryn Williams

My Cousin

She came here-not to rest-to sweep the stairs and
empty chamber pots. The gilded chairs
still stand here, the enormous mirrors throw
my face back as they did hers, aeons ago.
Down these plush corridors she moved, her feet
not echoing - dusting, leaving all things neat.
Somewhere her midget room, a great way up
these stairs. Invisible beneath her cap
to Bournemouth's guests, but I now who she was; my flesh, my blood, thrown early from the nest.
A small skimped woman when she was alive,
all siblings lost, unmatched at forty-five.
No trace, not one. Still stands the Grand Hotel
but now she rests. Somewhere in Boumemouth still.

Silvia Niculae

Merryn Williams

Verisoara mea

Ea a venit aici - nu ca sa se odihneasca - ci ca sa mature scarile si
sa goleasca oale de noapte. Scaunele aurite
tot se mai afla aici, giganticele oglinzi imi reflecta
fata asa cum se intampla si cu a ei, acum mult timp.
Pe aceste coridoare de plus se misca ea, picioarele ei
nescotand un sunet – stergand praful, lasand totul in ordine.
Camera ei micuta undeva in capul
acestor scari. Invizibila sub boneta ei
fata de musafirii Bournemouth-ului, dar eu stiu cine a fost.
trupul meu, sangele meu, aruncata de timpuriu din cuib.
O femeie mignona pe vremea cand traia,
toti fratii pierduti, nu si-a gasit perechea pana la patruzeci si cinci.
Nici o urma, nici una. Grand Hotel inca mai dainuie.
dar ea acum se odihneste. Tot undeva in Bournemouth.