On the coast of Norway

On the coast of Norway the fjords carry
seawater deep into the inland,
the smell of sea stuck
to the nets hanging on
the wall of a fisherman’s hut,
a large fish head
nailed in the middle of the door,
how long since some one
has lived here,
rolled up his sleeves,
pushed his fingers
into the guts of the day,
the film-reels of long nights
rolling in mind,
swimming in contest with the moon,
black water, sharp stones,
the depth you run from
scraping your knees to make them bleed,
fall into the inconsequential
decisions of life,
the empty days following one another,
nothing is as
you imagined in the beginning,
the loneliness
stronger than the man,
a woman you cannot hook
in these depths,
there’s a blue back of a whale
rising from the water,
the gulls sprinting
on to their wings, descending,
it’s calm again.

28 12 2010


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