by Christine De Luca

I da gairden o da Shaltered hooses
shö neebs aff, dovers owre at aese.
Shö’s med da möv fae her heeven,
her ain peerie nyook; is content noo
wi paeceful neebirs, a half-haertit view.

Shö’s plantit flooers,
an a male an female holly
i da hoop o berries.
Shö sterts ta wave ta passers-by
wi der bricht jackets.

A’m mindin on dat uncan wife dat,
bed-ridden an waakrife i da sanatorium,
keepit watch for a carefree moarnin lass
at ran bi her window, ta catch
da aerly shift o her simmer job;

shö’d pooed herself, laith,
fae da sweet slacky o sleep;
da aalder wife daily wavin
tae her ain young healty years,
smilin inta da face o anidder day.

In the garden of the Sheltered houses
she slips into each contented nap.
She’s made the move from idyll
of secluded cottage; is at ease now
with quiet neighbours, an almost view.

She has planted flowers,
and a male and female holly
in the hope of berries.
She starts to wave to passers-by
with their bright jackets.

I’m remembering that stranger who,
bed-ridden and sleepless in a sanatorium,
kept a lookout for a carefree morning girl
who ran past her window, not to miss
the early shift of her summer job;

having pulled herself unwillingly
from the sweet hollow of sleep;
the older woman daily waving
to her own young healthy years,
smiling into the face of another day.

by Daisy Zamora
translated from Spanish by George Evans 

When I see them passing by I sometimes ask myself: What must
they feel, the ones who decided to be perfect and keep their marriages
afloat against all odds no matter how their husbands turned out
(party animal womanizer gambler troublemaker
loud-mouthed violent head banger lunatic weirdo slightly abnormal
neurotic obsessive clearly unbearable
dumbbell deadly boring brute insensitive grubby
egomaniacal ambitious disloyal politicker crook traitor liar
rapist of daughters torturer of sons emperor of the house
tyrant everywhere) but they put up with it
and God only knows what they suffered.

When I see them passing by so dignified and aged
their sons and daughters gone from the house leaving them alone
with a man they once loved (perhaps he’s calmed down
doesn’t drink hardly talks spends his time with TV
walks in slippers yawns falls asleep snores wakes up early
is ailing half-blind harmless almost childish) I ask myself:

Do they dare imagine themselves widows dreaming some night they
are free
and coming at last without guilt back to life?

by Rochelle Owens

In an early version
a deaf mute
a hermaphrodite
captured after the siege
a hermaphrodite
emptied of allegory
seated on the stump of a tree
wearing body paint
his soaring paper thin
shoulderblades
the dome of her skull
his earlobes
the angle of her nose
his fat ankles
her perfect toes
his legs collapsing under her
multiple hues of flat color
triangles of purple
circles   squares   stripes
Teasing femme / homme
hypermasculine   hyperfeminine
murderous sex cells
her long pale eyelashes
And gazes upwards smiling
An altruistic mother’s deathless love
Deathless love saved the babe
an impure creation
carnal /spiritual
pale and red his lips
she could feel and taste colors
his mouth watering
Meek sweetness the face the face
of the hermaphrodite
her platinum blonde curls
bringing millions to their knees

In a later version
out of a lost narrative
a deaf mute
seated on the stump of a tree
covered with tattoos
an asymmetrical form
vertical / horizontal
an impure creation
she could feel and taste colors
A hermaphrodite
out of the center page
the edge sharp   dangerous
hidden before the siege
Spasmodic the spirals of color
astrological symbols
a kaleidoscope slowly turning
purple   orange   blue
shards of green glass forming
letters   abstract designs
His mouth watering
taste buds pulsating   a flow
of hormonal forces
hypermasculine   hyperfeminine
murderous sex cells
signs and wonders   veins   muscles
sweat glands   ligaments
intertwining   darkening ruby-red
burning silver
the marrow filling the cavities
neurological linkings
streaks of burning gold   thick   thin
strokes alternating
slashes of color seeping
He sucks evening to morning
milk of the mother misery
milk of the father terror
She sucks morning to evening
milk of the mother misery
milk of the father terror

tasting the color drippings
nipples spurting nectar
An altruistic mother’s deathless love
Deathless love saved the babe
an impure creation
carnal / spiritual
the shape of blood poured
into a cracked cup
pale and red her lips
her arms floating above
red and pale his fingers pulling
the spirals of her hair
blood of the hermaphrodite
Meek sweetness the face the face
of the hermaphrodite
his platinum blond curls
bringing millions to their knees