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The Literary Groong - 04/24/2010

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	By Ana Arzoumanian

	Dash out!
	Using large steps,
	grandma, run!...
	No turning back,
	they are coming, run,
	they are upon you;
	go to the other side, pretend,
	now pretend, don't scream,
	who would help you now?
	if it's just you
	they have to play;
	ease off that thing inside, be patient,
	they are just bodies
	threatening you, guarding you,
	just bodies
	squashing and pressing.
	Like a slave without a master
	who implores you not to
	who has nobody to pray to
	be patient and try to forget;
	soon the last one will be resting,
	spent finally, the last one
	and you'll have died each time too.
	Don't try to bring your legs together yet,
	they are already severed, don't you see?,
	although they have shaken in
	their olive-coloured skin with fury,
	don't be restless, or alarmed, you'll see
	little by little nothing will be left untouched,
	keep yourself embraced in their fingers,
	stay inert and inwardly alert,
	keep the strangulation of nails,
	and don't play dead just yet,
	it's the same, its fixed, its bland,
	it'll be the same, again and again
	I'll be the substitute, grandma,
	expressing herself in your omitted place,
	who plays your role with my throat., my dress, my fury in olive skinned legs.

	From the original Spanish

	Salí disparando con pasos largos,
	abuela, corré,
	no te des vuelta,
	están ahí, corré,
	te están mirando;
	hacia el otro lado, disimulá,
	ahora disimulá, no grites,
	quién te auxiliaría ahora
	si estás sólo vos
	para hacer el juego;
	aflojá eso adentro, tené paciencia,
	sólo son cuerpos
	que te amenazan, te vigilan,
	sólo con sus cuerpos
	presionan y atestan.
	Como un esclavo sin amo
	que no suplicara,
	que no tendría a nadie
	a quién rogar,
	tené paciencia y olvidate;
	pronto el último estará a raya,
	en su quemadura ya el último
	y habrás muerto.
	No intentes juntar las piernas,
	Ya están desprendidas, ¿no ves?,
	aunque hayan sacudido
	la aceitunada piel de la furia,
	no te desacomodes, ves
	de a poco no va quedando nada,
	guardate en los dedos,
	quedate inerte,
	guarda el estrangulamiento de las uñas,
	y no te hagas más la muerta;
	es lo mismo,
	será lo mismo, ahora
	yo seré la suplente, abuela,
	la que se expresa en tu lugar omitido,
	la que hace tu papel en mi garganta.

	Ella, la nunca hija

Ana Arzoumanian was born in Buenos Aires. She is a lawyer who works in
the accademic fields specializing in Holocaust and Genocide.  She has
taught a course on Holocaust and its transmission in Jerusalem in
2008. She writes mostly in Spanish.

She has published Labios (1993), Debajo de la piedra (1998), La mujer de
ellos (2001), El ahogadero (2002), La granada (2003), Mía (2004),
Juana I (2006), Cuando todo acabe todo acabará (2008). She has
translated The Long and the Short of Holocaust Verse by Susan Gubar
(2007) , and Sade et l'ecriture de l'orgie by Lucienne Frappier
Mazur (2006).


	By Bedros Afeyan

	Seven messengers from beyond a dog's grave
	Said you will die tonight and join 7 Million
	Unborn sons of slain Armenian Exiles
	In Syrian desert mounds, humming
	God Have Mercy, Lamentations
	Morning Light, Hallelujahs,
	Exodus, wind swept scimitars

	95 turns around the sun
	And not a drop can be forgot
	Forgiven, the beasts have become
	95 wobbles of a thawing, deforming planet
	An obscure corner where chess, cognac
	Science, violins and woodwinds cry out
	In silent prison cells, metal bars
	Tapping out their joy or unlived youth
	Where I am destined to join them tonight

	There can be no sun for us, nor moon, nor howls
	For the victims bred, abandoned, official denials
	Dross undresses our hopes en permanence

	But we recall the wedding songs
	If sung solely in minor keys
	Its flirtations masked
	Its virginal promise
	Fractured, flung

	But funerals slow in pace
	If liberation and pregnant pride
	We become a cause, a rational rhyme
	A cradled pendant swaying in time
	Waiting to land
	Waiting for our lands to come
	Save us a mythic clouded
	Fog horn led caravan
	Of night, glassy, howls.

	Royal Festival Hall
	Southbank Center
	London, BG

Dr. Bedros Afeyan is a theoretical physicist who works and lives in
the Bay area with his wife, Marine. He writes in Armenian and in
English and also paints and sculpts. Samples of his work can be found
on the web by clicking on his personal web pages at:

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