ANNE STEWART

The Truth about My Mother

Once, when I had my stupid head
in the ground, drunk, and shooting off
a mouth too crass for words and headed
for a beating or, more likely,
something worse, it was
a woman sent
to fetch me back, the men
too drunk for it.
Caught
between the means of retribution
and the threat of everlasting debt,
all I saw was a carpet of doubt
laying out ahead:
endless claims
and accusations of a saving,
undeserved.
A man stripped
for flaying must live elsewhere.
She might have saved me.
I acknowledge this to you
but not to her.

Alina Rosu

Anne Stewart
 

Adevarul despre mama mea
 

Odat’, pe cand mi-era mintea grea
ca plumbul, de betie, vrute si nevrute trancanind,
ma lua gura pe dinainte de era
la tranta sa ma prind sau chiar
sa intru intr-o belea mai mare,
o femeie au trimis
sa ma aduca inapoi,
barbatii prea beti fiind.
Prinsa
intre caile de pedeapsa divina
si amenintarea unei datorii vesnice,
am vazut doar un covor al indoielii
intins in fata ochilor:
cerinte infinite
si acuzatii privind salvarea,
necuvenite.
Un om despuiat
pentru a fi biciuit trebuie sa traiasca altundeva.
Ea m-ar fi putut salva.
Va marturisesc asta,
desi nicicand nu va afla.