| M. Nęssum | ||||||||||
| Spring 2004 | ||||||||||
| After the storm Today is quiet, a shiny frosty day not like yesterday's roaring storm with white foam from the angry waves gusting eastwards Outside my house I hear the surf, faintly, it takes time to calm an ocean I go down to the beach no wind at all I turn my face towards the sun, blood red, warmth, roaring in my ears On the frozen sand young men in old cars try to kill the seagulls resting in clusters. Once, one succeeded he was my first real lover His biggest wish was to go on a safari, and kill an elephant, I said why, he told me he wanted to hear the sound of such a big animal falling down Whenever I wanted to see him he could not give me a definite answer I said why, He told me he might break his leg or be otherwise engaged His sister always wore a torture instrument, some kind of steel corset I never asked why, he never told me We used to go to his grandparents' house on the beach making love out of season until it got too cold |
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