they were proving
who loved whom more
first they argued, then they quarreled
and at last got into a fight
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2020
Author Archives: Tetiana Aleksina
zero waste
a railway trackside
is planted with cabbage
at dusk it kind of looks like
heads growing on veggie patches
i imagine it’s the business strategy
of the railroad administration
they cultivate new passengers
from the severed parts of train victims
i pull down the shade, turn on the light
a conductor knocks at the door
she asks if i want a cup of tea
yes, please, without sugar
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2020
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GUEST POST // A Birthday Poem by B K Rollason
There comes a time
for taking stock
of what one’s had
and what one’s got,
of where one’s going
and where one’s been,
of what one’s heard
and what one’s seen.
You know the games,
you’ve learnt the rules,
you can tell the wisemen
from the fools,
you’ve learned that all’s
not as it seems,
that life is both
reality and dreams,
and like the tides
that ebb and flow,
life’s sometimes fast
and oft’ times slow.
To survive the storm
a tree must bend,
and a new day starts
where this one ends.
by B K ROLLASON
© All rights reserved 1982
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DARWINIAN // The Key is Under the Mat
So, I’m standing on her doorstep, trying to recall details of my dream from the night before.
Carl Sagan was in the dream. I remember that much. He was living in a cardboard box in Buckingham Palace, and was a high level warlock with no access whatsoever to the Queen. This depressed Carl Sagan, so he created a Twitch stream to play Portal 2 while reciting poetry. The stream was very popular. It made the Queen very jealous.
This is all I can remember as the door opens.
Calix looks pretty sleepy. Actually, I’d go so as far to say she looks quite sour too. Early mornings certainly don’t appear to agree with her. And one strap of her singlet is twisted. My eyes can’t focus on anything else. My brain is telling me to reach out and fix it. Of course, I resist. No one needs to be killed at such an ungodly hour.
She yawns and steps aside, waving me in. “Do you always visit people’s homes at the butt crack of dawn… whatsyaface?”
“Ezra,” I say helpfully. Because, you know, I was raised to be polite. Even when others were mangling my name. Which they did. A lot.
“Fizra?”
I gape at her for a moment, wondering how someone with such an odd name herself could be so cavalier with mine. I shrug this off.
“Erm, yes.” Curse my politeness.
Calix scratches her smooth underarm as I shuffle in, a suitcase under both of mine. She’s clearly goggling at the hugeness of said suitcases—almost in awe in fact. My stupid imagination quickly jumps to a conclusion it oughtn’t. She’s thinking that I’m an eligible bachelor of substantial means. Can’t wait for her to see the mountain of boxes I’ve got stacked on the kerb!
Anyway, the next moment kills all of that.
“Where the hell are you going to put all of that?” She points down the short hallway. “I don’t want any of your shit cluttering up the place, you hear?”
“I… I’m sorry!” I’m stammering now. “I can… I can just leave it out… outside?”
Calix scowls at me. I’m coming to an understanding that she’s the master of looks that humiliate and wither before swooping in for the kill. If I wasn’t such a sad excuse of a man, I’d be feeling emasculated right now. Thank heavens I’m not much of a man!
“No, you boob, just put it in your room. I don’t need to be tripping over your junk is all.”
She leads me to my room, poking her finger at different doors along the way, commenting on this and that with the tone of a hungover museum guide with a pathological hatred of visitors.
For my part, I’m carrying my suitcases with pathological ease. No way am I going to let this ill-mannered wench see me as some weedy, pathetic cookie pusher! I’m a man of freaking muscle!
“Toilet.” Yup. It’s a toilet. “I hope you’re a seat lifter when you’re doing a number one, otherwise I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.”
I want to ask if I can at least shit with the seat lowered—you know, to avoid putting my bare arse on the cold porcelain rim. It’s a sacred process, the shitting. Just saying. But I don’t say. I maintain a discreet silence. We keep walking. She keeps pointing.
“Kitchen.”
“Fascinating.”
Calix stops dead in her tracks. Fuck. Have I said that out loud? Panicked, I nearly drop my suitcases. But her voice suddenly softens. “Can you… errrmm… Fizra, yes? Can you cook?”
“Well, I’m not exactly Heston,” I respond nervously. “I’m not in the habit of serving up broiled harp seal snouts in exotic amphoras filled with Namibian pygmy batter or anything. But I get by.”
I’m ready for the worst, but for some reason… well, Calix noticeably cheers up. The rest of our ‘sightseeing tour’ breezes quickly by, and is almost… friendly. As it turns out, there’s not a lot to show actually. Near a shabby white door, Calix slaps me on the shoulder and says, “Welcome home, Fizra!”
I cautiously push open the door and step inside.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
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TATI’S TRANSLATIONS // Axis by Alice Munro (Excerpt)
Avie waited until they were comfortable to tell Grace about her dream.
“You must never tell anybody,” she said.
In the dream, she was married to Hugo, who really was hanging around as if he hoped to marry her, and she had a baby, who cried day and night. It howled, in fact, till she thought she would go crazy. At last she picked up this baby—picked her up, there never was any doubt that it was a girl—and took her down to some dark basement room and shut her in there, where the thick walls insured that she wouldn’t be heard. Then she went away and forgot about her. And it turned out that she had another girl baby anyway, one who was easy and delightful and grew up without any problems.
But one day this grown daughter spoke to her mother about her sister hidden in the basement. It turned out that she had known about her all along—the poor warped and discarded one had told her everything—and there was nothing to be done now. “Nothing to be done,” this lovely, kind girl said. The abandoned daughter knew no way of life but the one she had and, anyway, she did not cry anymore; she was used to it.
“That’s an awful dream,” Grace said. “Do you hate children?”
“Not unreasonably,” Avie said.
“What would Freud say? Never mind that, what would Hugo say? Have you told him?”
“Good God, no.”
“It’s probably not as bad as it seems. You’re probably just worried again about being pregnant.”
Эви подождала, пока они устроятся на сиденьях, и начала рассказывать Грейс свой сон.
«Только никому не разболтай», – предупредила она.
Во сне она была замужем за Хьюго – парень действительно не давал ей проходу в надежде, что Эви согласится стать его женой, – и у неё был грудной ребёнок, который плакал день и ночь. Вернее, орал благим матом, доводя её до белого каления. В конце концов она взяла младенца – это совершенно точно была девочка, – и снесла в тёмную подвальную комнату с толстыми стенами. Она заперла дочку там, чтобы не слышать её бесконечного плача. И ушла, позабыв о ней. А потом оказалось, что у неё есть ещё одна малышка, спокойная и милая, которая выросла, не доставляя родителям никаких хлопот.
Но однажды уже повзрослевшая дочь заговорила с матерью о своей сестре, спрятанной в подвале. Оказалось, что она знала о ней с самого начала – сломленная и позабытая всеми затворница рассказала своей сестре всё, – но теперь с этим ничего уж не поделать. «Ничего уж не поделать», – кротко повторила любимая дочь, отрада и утешение матери. Всё равно, её покинутая сестра ничего не знала о жизни снаружи, она больше не плакала и давно смирилась со своей участью.
«Какой ужасный сон», – сказала Грейс. «Ты что, ненавидишь детей?»
«Не без причины», – ответила Эви.
«Что бы на это сказал Фрейд? Ладно, это неважно, но вот что бы сказал твой Хьюго? Ты ему рассказывала?»
«Боже, нет».
«Возможно, всё не так плохо, как кажется. Наверное, ты просто опять переживаешь, что забеременела».
Original story by ALICE MUNRO
Translation by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2011
unbolt me 