F O T O, poems 81 - 90
Cirsium arvense (poem 88) |
[Image source: http://www.flowersinsweden.com/Cirsiumarvense_page.htm]
81. (Evening meal in the kitchen ― giggling)
“Men
Mika...!” The beer rushes over the table, fizzing
happily,
plates
clatter, Mum and me are convulsed with laughter,
“Dreadful
child,” she says. I am seven years old,
the
trees stir in their beds, soon we’ll sit down to canasta.
82.
(The four of us at the table)
You
ran back. Smiles roamed, like smoke-rings,
our
wrists resting on the table-edge, hands above plates.
The
shutter snapped and cropped half your face.
The
only sound on the film is the clock saying: Eight.
83.
(In the hammock at night)
On the
black lawn your feet thump the ground, invisible.
I’m
singing, a few strong features perch in the night:
the
pale windowframes, a flagpole, pine branches...
we
don’t need to shush: to the north, you can still see daylight.
84.
(Morning sun through the trees)
From
out of the endless woods a gift exhales:
not
the first day, but another day.
That
is best. To wake again knowing how good
it is
to be woken. To know and not to say.
85.
(Farms in the valley ― thistles in foreground)
After
school Mats still RRrrmms his moped
up and
down the home meadow. He might not go.
A
tractor conjures hay-pills, glossy and white;
you
have to work them, you don’t have the things you own.
86.
(Dancing down road playing mouth-organ)
Dull
gleam of blacktop ― landing hard, I scuffed it
and
re-launched zigzag, no music but what's squeezed
from
my hands and lips, nothing but my life
to
mark the road and leave it used.
87.
(Singing and walking)
I love
you singing. Then all your unsigned beauty
which
stands in frames around me, that gallery
compacts
like a shock, and from your belly
you
cry something deeper, your reality.
88.
(Playing mouth-organ in thistles)
Noon: the greygreen globes bristle with
mauve;
the bees come, thousands browsing, on every
roadside
the sugar of summer grows tautly, walls of it
shimmer across the valley where a seed
strayed.
89. (T-junction)
The roads have captions, but not the forest.
You reached across dusty metal, to touch RAGUNDA
20, like wording on a
top. The leafy place is
its own tense home, it also may be a
bender...
90.
(Flowers in belt)
Those yellow/magenta empires broke up into
stalky,
tangible structures. I picked samples, I was
a student.
It made a bunch, nodding in the warmth of
your loaded belt.
Between pineshadows you swung, solid and
different.
*
Back-story: Utanede. 81-84 Evening and morning at the cottage. 85-90 Walk with Laura on the western side of the Indal river (road through sunny farmland from Västeråsen to Hölleforsen).
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