After park workings
my bones are exhaust,
my back is shatter
and
my stomach sing for Mămică’s soup stew.
I thank all gods we have
only one week to finishing.
This work make me never stealing from any shop
ever.
When I coming in my home
I don’t smell Mămică’s soup stew,
or
hear clatter of cooking.
My belly rolls with groans.
Out of the nowhere,
laughing hit my ears.
Mămică and Tata.
Mămică and Tata
in living room.
Alone.
Laughing.
Alone.
Noising.
Sexing?
I freeze to my spot,
and I wanting so much that black hole
swallow me up.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
‘Nicu!’ Tata shout.
I schtum it.
‘Nicu!’ Mămică shout.
My breath schtum.
‘Nicu, come here,’ Tata shout again.
‘We want to show you something.’
My heart almost schtums too.
‘Nicu, get your arse in here,’ Tata say in louder voice
because he think
I am far.
On my enter all is
OK.
I see them looking at
Tata’s phone,
bodies together, eyes watching, faces sunny.
‘Look, Nicu,’ Mămică say, ‘look what we found on Tata’s phone.’
‘It’s from last year,’ Tata say.
‘You look much younger,’ Mămică say.
‘But strong as a bison,’ Tata say.
Over shoulders
I look also the phone and see it.
See me.
Body low.
Head up.
Feet wide.
Ready to do classic takedown move.
‘You could have been a proper champion,’ Tata say.
‘A national champion,’ Mămică say.
‘An Olympic champion,’ Tata say. ‘First famous Gabor ever.’
And I was dreaming this too
long times ago.
Gold,
silver
or
bronze.
Any of three.
But dreams flutter high in air.
Bye-bye
wrestling butterfly.
Hello
husband.