Balena / Swallow-Me-Sojourner

Spontan, am decis să mutăm rezidența de vara pe jumătatea străvezie a unui balon. De cum am ajuns, m-ai pus în cap și ai spus învârte-te. Ai spus dă din mâini și prinde-te de o scamă. Ai spus lasă-ți talpa pe umărul meu. Promit că nu te gâdil. Și apoi, fără să-mi dau seama c-am prins încredere în ține, te-am simțit cum dispari. Cum rupi de sub piciorul meu Pământul și te-nghite o balenă.

Blue and black, viscerae wake me like the insides of a shallow-dug grave. Light. Come calling for me when the monster yawns, send hawks like safety-ropes. Tear at my insides. Turn palms upwards, whistling jaunty tunes in the fuss of foreign army boots.

Te-am așteptat lung. Am realizat abia târziu că mă răseseră în cap și mă legaseră la poartă. M-a găsit, în trecere, un măcelar și, văzându-și norocul în solzi de sirenă, m-a adoptat de pui crezând c-așa uit de la cine am plecat. N-am uitat. Când nu trece nimeni, bag o gheară pe țeavă și încep să zgărmăn. Găsesc urme din ține, ațe ale unei alte poveșți pe care am crezut până nu demult că însămi eu o scriu. Pervers, nu? Găsesc și trag. Mă uit la firele mici, ascuțite de barbă pe care ți le-am înghițit când dormeai că să nu te întorci pe o parte din greșeală și să ne spargi balounul. Și uite că el s-a spart. Când scoate un ochi pe geam, măcelarul întreabă de ce nu latru. Te-nghit înapoi în mine, curbez coloana și-mi amintesc, cu dinții șubrezi, de ce încă n-am murit.

They may tell you I caused the rebellion. Between you and me, there were others. There's been attempts from inside swallowed shipwrecks and seaweed-clad oyster-shells. With every newcomer, there's growing interest in fresh air, yet they've caught me trying to scale Mother Larynx, and now I'm to be made an example of. I've changed my mind. Don't come. I've failed in my freedom. I fear if you see me this way, you'll remember calloused hands and sing for better times. Become embarrassed of all the places I promised I'd take you before I swallowed my own tongue. Don't come.

Pe un ciob cules în poartă, mi-am tăiat lobii că să mă pot împodobi. Am uitat cuvinte lăsate de-a curmezișul și-am trecut prin cap de ac, cavou scobit între două coaste. M-am prins și m-am eliberat. Your name, which rhymed, from childhood onwards, with the best sea shanties. Am început să uit. M-am deghizat în călugăr, dar mi-am uitat pielea tăbăcită, ajung la râu și mă dezbrac. Trap between your fleece-ballooning breasts the tear-away splinters of another man's shipwreck. Iau tot. Învăț în pustietate că rimele au nevoie și de-a două jumătate. Eu, mama-bestie-lup-turbat, tu, scafandru iubitor de liberate. Depărtez picioarele. Scap.Te găsesc privind la mine, un ochi închis însângerat, unul pătrat. Bag seama c-am greșit. Te-am lăsat, acum nu mai ești cine eram.

I wished to know if there could be a dialogue between my English mind and my Romanian mouth. Whether they complement or hinder one another, if my nose was straight enough for a bridge, then remember I bashed it on the cement as a little girl and rushed to rub salt, forgetting to gather back my scattered thesaurus.

! Spontaneously, we decided to move the summer residence to the sea-through half of a yawning balloon. As soon as we arrived, you sat me on my head and said spin. Said flap your arms and catch hold the lint. Said lean your sole on my shoulder. I promise I won't tickle. And then, without realizing I'd caught such trust of you, I felt you begin to vanish. Rip the Earth from underfoot and be swallowed by a wayfaring whale.

Blue and black, viscerae wake me like the insides of a shallow-dug grave. Light. Come calling for me when the monster yawns, send hawks like safety-ropes. Tear at my insides. Turn palms upwards, whistling jaunty tunes in the fuss of foreign army boots.

I waited for you long. Realized only very late they'd shaved my head and tied my ankle to the gate. He picked me up in passing, the butcher, and, glimpsing his hard-earn luck in siren's scales, adopted me from a cub thinking that way, I'll forget who I came from. I haven't. When nobody's passing, I stick a claw down the pipeline and begin to rut. Find traces of you, drawstrings to a tale I thought for a long time I was writing. How perverse, isn't it? Find them and pull. Stare at the tiny, sharp hairs from your beard which I plucked and swallowed, so that you might not turn over in your sleep and puncture our balloon by accident. Yet lo and behold, it punctured. When he sticks an eye out the front window, the butcher asks to know why I don't bark. So I swallow you back into me, hunch my spine, and remember with shaking teeth, why I haven't yet died.

They may tell you I caused the rebellion. Between you and me, there were others. There's been attempts from inside swallowed shipwrecks and seaweed-clad oyster-shells. With every newcomer, there's growing interest in fresh air, yet they've caught me trying to scale Mother Larynx, and now I'm to be made an example of. I've changed my mind. Don't come. I've failed in my freedom. I fear if you see me this way, you'll remember calloused hands and sing for better times. Become embarrassed of all the places I promised I'd take you before I swallowed my own tongue. Don't come.

On a shard picked by the gate, I slicer my earlobes so I could bedeck self. Forgot words left crosswise and passed through needle's eye, this burial vault dug in-between two ribs. Caught and freed myself. Your name, which rhymed, from childhood, with the very best sea shanties. I began the long process of forgetting. I robed myself a monk, but forgot my weathered skin, reach the river and take robes off. Trap between your fleece-ballooning breasts the tear-away splinters of another man's shipwreck. I trap all. Learn in the wilderness that rhymes necesitate a second half to work. I, mamma-beast-rabid-wolf, and you, the freedom-loving deep-diver. I spread my legs. Escape. Find you watching me, one eye closed a-bleeding, the other square. Realize I've been wrong. I left you, and now, you're no longer who we was.