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.

Ana-Maria Purec

Merryn Williams

Verisoara mea

Ea a venit aici – nu pentru odihna – ca sa mature scarile
Si sa goleasca oalele de noapte. Scaunele poleite
Inca stau aici, oglinzile enorme imi arunca
Fata inapoi asa cum faceau cu a ei, ani in urma.
Mergea pe aceste coridoare luxoase, picioarele-i
Nu faceau zgomot – aspirand, lasand toate lucrurile ingrijite.
Undeva se afla si camera ei minuscula, in capatul
Scarilor. Invizibila in spatele bonetei
Pentru invitatii lui Bournemouth, dar eu stiu cine a fost;
Carnea mea, sangele meu, aruncata timpurie din cuib.
O femeie calica mica in timpul vietii,
Si-a pierdut toti fratii, necasatorita la 45 de ani.
Nicio urma, nimic. Grand Hotel inca exista,
Dar ea se odihneste acum. Undeva in linistea din Bournemouth.