{behind st. ruak's schoolyard}
{grilled fish in quince brandy}
{our feet on a saraband rug}

norwegian colours like tapestry shops
more than flags, their hypocrisy auburn
edvard munch a crushing, sinister past

stringing me along, do you feel his rush
brush sweeping hot air, just naked skin
full body carriage gone rickety and jolts

bolts and walls we manage to paper up
to cut off the nouveau, fulsome harder
lines; give me space, a watched prayer

{more migraines, a memory}

so much life down there; going, we say
a run of our neglected, pleasured selves
a rumination, vertical loom of a pledge