WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE: THE THIRD SPACE
GATHERING STONES
BY BIEKE STENGOS
That weekend, my father
instructs us to gather flat stones
that have washed up on the beach.
He wants them for the path
he’s putting in the garden, back home.
My brother and I marvel
that home is a place where things happen,
even with us gone.
You’ll never use these stones, my aunt says.
We coax her because
we can’t abide
to see her contradict our father.
Still she refuses to bend down
to pick up even one stone.
Then she slips on algae.
We laugh with the adults
and watch her
walk away,
feet slapping
on wet sand.
Her bum, a wiggle of stains.
36 | MAY 2017