Michael Curtis

Safe Harbour

1

She learned it early, that smile,

used the world over

to placate and to persuade.

She exercised it each morning,

quietened her children,

schooled her husband to good behaviour,

sent it before her each evening

into a room of laughing men,

taught it to earn tips at the bar,

let it spread from her mouth

to raised cheeks and tightened jaw,

coloured her talk with whites and reds,

employed it carelessly,

allowed it to play with a strand of hair,

look twice at the stranger at the corner table,

until insatiable nights

wiped it from her perfected face

and stole it from her eyes

2

So tonight

all the light

is robbed from her eyes

and the smile

once found with ease

when lighting our candle

takes ten seconds to compose

as she walks to our table

from the back room.

Her long peppered summer

has fetched up in August

weary as winter,

and now she must keep on walking

through an unbreakable dream

that brings no escaping

3

Like the dream

you’ve forgotten by morning

but doesn’t forget you,

your son dead, your father dying again,

the nightmare

that lies heavy behind eyes

that cloud for hours despite sunshine,

lamplight or even awakened love,

so the voice on the phone that evening

cannot be believed, the postcard

from the island beach in Thailand,

date smudged, must have been censored,

the e-mail confirming her arrival

forged, and the only thing

that can burn off the doubt

is another half-remembered dream,

unwilled, involuntary, but this time light

4

As the weightless catamaran

that straddles the countless fires

extinguishing and lighting the warm sea

on a risen morning

resolved to dazzle eyes

and burn off all effects of clouds

while the brief wakes of yachts

break cover to take their chance

and slake untethered restlessness

unsheeted at the exhausted wind

muffled engines screwing to the sun

as crews float between lives

5

Like us upon the salt of life,

swimming on the writhing sea

bathing in the showered sun

hugging shade beneath the pines,

purged of form, reduced to line

so recognition sheds disguise,

and sparrows peck at sparrow dunes

and sand flies fly across the sand,

and we follow the directions

concealed from the border guards

who only mistake them for maps

painted on glass quicksilvered by death,

and here we’ll find our way

while pedalos pedal families of five

lilos lie low in the afternoon

and the day glows in dayglows,

navigate a route through clouds

and imagine ourselves to light

until we settle to the smiles

that trade in nothing but themselves.

Cristina Florea

Michael Curtis

Liman

1

A invatat devreme acel zambet,

l-a folosit cu lumea din jur

pentru a o putea imblanzi si indupleca.

L-a exersat in fiecare dimineata,

si-a linistit cu el copiii,

si-a instruit sotul intru buna purtare,

l-a afisat in fiecare seara

intr-o incapere cu barbati razand,

l-a obisnuit sa castige bacsis,

l-a lasat sa se deschida din gura ei

spre chipuri intrebatoare si cu maxilarul incordat,

si-a colorat vorba in alb si rosu,

l-a intrebuintat cu nechibzuinta,

i-a permis sa se joace cu o suvita de par,

sa-l priveasca de doua ori pe strainul din coltul mesei,

pana cand nopti nestapanite

i l-au sters de pe fata-i bine conturata

si i l-au rapit din ochi

2

Astfel, in noaptea asta

toata lumina

ii e furata din priviri,

iar zambetul,

odata gasit cu usurinta,

atunci cand aprindem lumanarea noastra,

are nevoie de zece secunde pentru a-si domoli flacara

pe masura ce ea se apropie de masa noastra dinspre camera din spate.

Vara ei lunga si plina de peripetii

A fost recastigata-n august,

interminabila ca iarna,

iar acum ea trebuie sa inainteze

printr-un vis de nedestramat,

ce nu-i aduce scapare.

3

Asemenea visului

pe care l-ai uitat pana dimineata,

dar care nu te-a uitat pe tine,

fiul tau mort, tatal tau murind iar,

cosmarul

ce atarna greu din priviri,

care se intuneca timp de cateva ore in ciuda zilei insorite,

luminii lampii sau chiar a iubirii renascute,

asa incat vocea de la telefon din acea seara nu poate fi crezuta, vederea de pe plaja unei insule din Tailanda

cu data mazgalita trebuie sa fi fost cenzurata, e-mail-ul ce-i confirma sosirea

falsificat, iar singurul lucru

ce poate alunga indoiala

este un alt vis, tinut minte pe jumatate, nedorit, involuntar, dar de data aceasta linistit

4

Asa cum imponderabila ambarcatie

ce intretine numeroasele torpile

stingand si aprinzand calda mare

intr-o dimineata rasarinda

s-a descompus spre a incanta privirea

si a risipi orice actiune a norilor

in timp ce darele usoare lasate de iahturi

se ivesc spre a-si incerca norocul

si a-si astampara nelinistea descatusata,

de nestavilit in fata vantului obosit,

motoare ce ard mocnit invartindu-se dupa soare,

in timp ce echipajele plutesc intre doua vieti

5

Asemenea noua calatorind prin sarea vietii, inotand in marea zbuciumata,

scaldandu-ne in lumina coplesitoare a soarelui, imbratisand umbra de sub pini,

eliberati de forme, incatusati de limite

astfel incat semnalul de recunoastere e codat,

eretii ciugulesc din dune de ereti,

muste de nisip zboara deasupra nisipurilor,

iar noi mentinem directia,

ascunsi de garzile maritime,

care le iau drept niste simple harti

pictate pe sticla traversata de moarte,

si aici ne vom gasi drumul,

in timp ce pedalele pedaleaza in familii de cate cinci,

carmele cad catinel dupa-amiaza

si ziua lumineaza in zile-lumina,

navigam pe o ruta pierduta printre nori

si ne imaginam plutind,

pana ce ne multumim cu zambetele

care nu se cumpara decat unele pe altele.