Gabriel Griffin

Lament for an illegal immigrant

No moon, but fishermen

are used to that and the sea’s chanting,

the descant of the nets. The decks

silvered with sea verses,

the minims and trebles of fish

hushed into songbooks of ice.

Something didn’t sing, humped

in the net, thudding onto the deck.

Its ears heard no notes, its eyes

were blind to the men standing round,

its throat choked with words

that no-one would hear.

They let the sly octopus

sidle to the ship’s side, forgot to stop

the arch and leap of bream.

The sea moaned, the fish

slipped out of tune, the kittiwakes

hurled screeches like broken strings.

The men unfroze, thumped

what didn’t sing, what was lost for words, over the hissing deck. Tipped what had

no hope, had never had a hope,

back to the sea. No

word, no hymn, no prayer.

But the rags of its clothes cried. The sea

beat its fists on the boat. And the wind got up

and howled till dawn.

Iulia Achidin

Gabriel Griffin

Deplangerea imigrarii ilegale

Fara luna, dar pescarii

sunt obisnuiti cu asta si marea canta, cantecul plaselor. Puntile

argintate cu poezii despre mare,

numere duble si triple de pesti

tainuite in culegeri de cantece de gheata.

Ceva nu canta, cocosat

in plasa, izbindu-se de punte.

urechile-i nu auzeau notele, ochii

nu vedeau oamenii din jur,

gatul ii era sugrumat de cuvinte

pe care nimeni nu le-auzea.

Ei au lasat vicleana caracatita

sa se indrepte speriata spre marginea puntii, au uitat sa impiedice

arcuirea si saltul platicii.

Marea suspina, pestii

ieseau tiptil din melodie, pescarusii

aruncau tipete stridente asemeni unor margele sparte.

Barbatul a dezghetat si a lovit

pe cel ce nu canta, pe cel ce era pierdut pentru cuvant,

peste puntea suieratoare. A impins pe cel ce n-avea

nici o sansa, nu avusese niciodata nici o sansa,

inapoi in mare. Nici un

cuvant, nici un imn, nici o ruga.

Dar zdrentele din hainele sale tipau. Marea

Isi izbea pumnii de barca. Si vantul se inteti Si urla pana in zori.