NIGEL WALKER

Table and Chair

He was happy to be a table
And she,
Content being a chair.

She tucked neatly under him.
He stood foursquare.

He dealt with sharp objects;
knives, forks. Spilt salt lay
on him like a prayer
and never showered down
to burn her delicate naivety.

She dreamed and offered rest.
Proud when others used her as a prop
Or sat and tilted forward
resting their heavy arms on him.

Once he had questioned what
It must be like beyond the kitchen door.
He found it difficult to move his legs,
then it slammed shut.
So he had arrived, at last.

And what she dreamed of
was growing into a ladder.
Of going up and up and up,
not to the moon or stars
but somewhere like a loft,
from where she might look down,
somewhere attainable.
But, too timid to stretch,
Never grew rungs.

So people said that
she was sat upon
and he was put upon.

He was happy to be a table.
And she,
Content being a chair.
 

Laura Persoiu

Nigel Walker
 

Masa si scaun
 

El era fericit sa fie masa
Iar ea
Multumita ca era scaun.

Se aseza ordonata sub el
El statea hotarat pe cele patru picioare.

El avea de-a face cu obiecte taioase;
cutite, furculite. Sarea varsata se intindea pe el
ca o rugaciune
si niciodata nu se revarsa
sa arda delicata ei naivitate.

Ea visa si oferea odihna.
Mandra cand altii se sprijineau de ea
Sau stateau aplecati
rezemandu-si bratele grele pe el.

Mai demult el s-a intrebat
cum este viata dincolo de usa bucatariei.
Nu a putut sa isi miste picioarele,
si usa s-a inchis cu o bufnitura.
Astfel el a ajuns in sfarsit.

Si ceea ce ea visa
crestea transformandu-se in scara.
Visa urcari si coborari
nu pana la luna sau stele
ci doar pana intr-un pod,
de unde s-ar putea uita in jos,
undeva unde se putea ajunge.
Dar, prea sfioasa pentru a se inalta
Nu i-au crescut niciodata trepte.

Astfel oamenii spuneau
Ca se asezau pe ea
Si asezau pe el.

El era fericit sa fie o masa
Iar ea
Multumita ca era un scaun.