Brian Docherty

World View

Boredom rusts my mouth, shrivels my tongue.
The food never varies; I mark off my days
by the menu I have never been offered.
The supplements announce who is on duty.

I can smell my own body, the drains,
boiled vegetables, leather and dogs.
The man who hung himself 20 meals ago is
still with us, a wreath of quicklime.

My skin, my clothes, this floor, these walls, are
all I have touched for too long.
A book, a woman’s skin, a glass of wine, are
things I have given up longing for.

All night I hear men moaning, pipes banging,
lorries and trains in the distance.
If I had a watch, I could set it by them. In
the early hours they stop for a while.

The high window is a wonky camera
framing birds, clouds, kites, planes.
I never see other people except through
the smoky mirror of memory.

Ioana Tudor

Brian Docherty

Perspectiva

Plictiseala imi rugineste gura si imi usuca limba.
Mancarea nu variaza niciodata; imi insemnez zilele
In functie de meniul ce nu mi-a fost servit vreodata.
Suplimentele anunta cine e de serviciu.

Imi pot mirosi propriul trup, tevile de scurgere,
Legumele fierte, obiectele din piele si cainii.
Barbatul care s-a spanzurat acum 20 de mese
Ne este inca alaturi, o ghirlanda de zeama de var.

Pielea mea, hainele, aceasta podea, acesti pereti
Sunt ceea ce am atins prea mult timp.
O carte, pielea unei femei, un pahar cu vin,
Sunt lucruri dupa care am incetat sa mai tanjesc.

Aud in noapte barbati gemand, tevi pocnind,
Camioane si trenuri in departare.
Daca as avea ceas, l-as putea potrivi dupa ele.
Dimineata devreme inceteaza un timp.

Fereastra inalta este o camera subreda de luat vederi
Ce incadreaza pasari, nori, zmeie, avioane.
Nu vad niciodata alti oameni, in afara de cei
Intruchipati in oglinda tulbure a aducerii aminte.