HILARY ELFICK

The Mercian girl in me

 

wants small hills and fields, clean canals,
streams, rivers, oaks and willows, wants
to rake the crumbled earth to see what
grows here by itself, with folk ruddy-

cheeked in cords and plaids and pinnies,
ITMA for Sunday lunch, a paper bag of
lights to boil up for the tabby, where all
policemen are our Galahads, and we ride

on trams with slatted seats and backs
which fold this way or that so we can
still face front, and sit in classes where
to speak in English is so normal no one

notices, and everyone stays put so we all
know where we are, and the corner shop
still sells the goods that grew this week
and only down the road, served by a family

that Grannie knew, saying ‘frowsty’
when the windows steam, and we come
outside at bed-time to the village green
and bonfire, oxen roasting on a spit, for

queuing’s worth the slice of meat cut thick
and dripping fat and juices that run all
sideways down our chins, because we can
once more again have all our lamps lit in

our streets and open all our curtains wide,
hurl all our stuffy gasmasks in the blaze,
because now once again we hook our arms
together, singing, now all wars are done.

Roxana-Monica Mîndrican

Hilary Elfick
 

Fata merciana din mine

Viseaza la dealuri si campii, albii curate,
izvoare, rauri, stejari si salcii, vrea
sa rascoleasca pamantul moale sa vada
ce creste inauntru, inconjurata de tarani

cu fete rumene, in sorturi si pleduri,
ITMA* la masa de duminica, o punga de hartie
Plina cu biscuiti light pentru pisica,
iar politistii- Cavaleri ai mesei rotunde, iar noi

mergem in tramvaie cu scaune de tabla si
spatar ce se modifica pentru a putea
privi mereu in fata, si sa stam la cursuri unde
e normal sa vorbesti englezeste si aproape

ca nu ne dam seama si stam cuminti
la locurile noastre, la magazinul din colt
se mai vand inca produse de saptamana asta
consummate de o familie din vecinatate

pe care Buni’ o stia si spunea « sufocant »
cand geamurile se abureau, iar noi
veneam seara la focul in aer liber ,
unde frigeam carnea de vita

si stateam la rand pentru bucata groasa de carne
grasimea si sosul ni se scurgeau
pe barbie, pentru ca puteam
din nou s-aprindem toate felinarele

pe strada si sa tragem draperiile
sa aruncam pe foc sufocantele masti de gaz,
pentru ca mai putem inca o data sa ne tinem de mana
si sa cantam, gata cu razboiul.

*ITMA
(pronounced It Ma) ‘It’s that Man again!’, a popular wartime radio comedy series in Britain.