Aurora Borealis
As years pass he
increases his anxiety
as years pass he
turns further and further north
towards the
winters
and carried on an
ordinary wheelbarrow
he is taken one
evening to the realm of the dead
just beneath the
northern lights.
Who – says the
dead man – touched my hand?
My child it was I
Aurora replies.
And they continue
to the point
where they
exchange places
and Aurora lies
down in the wheelbarrow
and the dead man
goes off to the horizon.
On such evenings
it goes without
saying
the northern
lights gleam extra bright.
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