HILARY ELFICK

The walking stick

 

She dropped it where she fell halfway down the shingle
where it waited, camouflaged, until the next spring tide.
Stones polished it. Salt and sun bleached, cleaned,
scoured it of old wax which, every Saturday, she’d pressed
and warmed and molded into every crack and gnarl.

Now, smooth as bone, it made a perch for oystercatcher,
settling on its upturned crook, curling his red toes, waiting
for the tide to ebb. With sculptured hagstone, broken shell,
it changed colour under the shuffling shadow of the bird.
Out there, nestling deeper under gravel with each tide

it stayed longer than you might have thought and later,
when they came and emptied all her house and
lifted the old stand, umbrellas and her garden boots,
they wondered who had taken it and walked about
the town, along the beach, and swung it as his own.

Roxana-Monica Mîndrican

Hilary Elfick
 

Toiagul

L-a aruncat in locul unde a cazut, pe pietris
asteptand, camuflat, sosirea primaverii.
Pietrele l-au slefuit. Sarea si soarele l-au albit,
l-au curatat de ceara pe care, in fiecare sambata,
ea o modela in fiece fisura si ciot.

Acum, neted ca un os, era sprijin cormoranilor,
care isi asezau degetele rosii pe manerul sau indoit
in asteptarea refluxului. Daltuit si cu scoarta roasa,
se decolora sub umbra sovaitoare* a pasarii.
Cu fiecare flux se afunda tot mai mult in nisip.

Am ramas acolo mai mult decat ai fi crezut,
iar cand au venit sa-i goleasca locuinta
sa ia vechia etajera, umbrele si cizmele ei de gradina,
s-au intrebat cine l-a luat sa se plimbe prin oras,
pe plaja, leganandu-l ca si cum i-ar fi apartinut.

*I translated « shuffling » by « sovaitoare », because I envisaged the bird’s shadow reflecting on the waves which move slowly on the shore and create the impression that the shadow is shuffling with the tide. « sovaitoare » suggests this slow move.