Poem by the Swedish poet Lennart Sjögren

Razor blade

Sit cutting into

the sand with a razor blade

the sand slits open

and what’s sharp loses its edge.

The sun is hot this time of the year

the ant-lions guard their hollows

and a few ants always have to give their blood

for the sake of those on guard.

The dream of a plane

crashing from a great height into the sand

returns.

The razor blade no longer serves its purpose

but the sand continues to do so.

And anyone building a tower here

must answer for his structure;

when the sea comes

the sand also flows outwards

and embarks on one of its unfathomable

migrations,

which is older: the sea or the sand

becomes a metaphysical question.

The razor blade is highly dangerous

and used up

still there in the sand

the ant-lions continue about their business

the dream of the plane returns.