HILARY ELFICK

Beneath the clock

 

Beneath the Alexander clock
on a table made from applewood,

in between a pile of washed rags
and some old unanswered mail,

there is a cardboard box
that we have all walked past,

carrying cups and babies
or jingling keys and pens.

The stamps are smudged
but here’s the corner of a leaf

and there the face of an old king.
The box is trembling,

as if a sad, a timorous
crumpled thing is hiding there.

It might break out all by itself.
It might grow tired of waiting.

It is your box.
It’s named for you.

Just pick it up.
Undo the string.

Roxana-Monica Mîndrican

Hilary Elfick
 

In spatele Ceasului

In spatele ceasului Alexander
pe o masa din lemn de mar,

intre o gramada de zdrente spalate
si cateva scrisori vechi fara raspuns,

se afla o cutie de carton
peste care am trecut

carand cesti si copii
sau zanganind chei si pixuri.

Stampilele sunt murdare timbrele s-au ingalbenit
dar se zareste coltul unei frunze

si chipul unui batran rege.
Cutia tremura,

de parca o fiinta trista, fricoasa
si mototlita s-ar ascunde acolo.

Poate o sa evadeze din senin.
Poate o sa se plictiseasca de atata asteptare.

E cutia ta.
E inscrisa cu numele tau.

Ia-o.
Deschide-o.