Vatnajökull
A black physiotherapist on
Iceland invited me out
for a walk. He looked at my
hips
and I saw a future. He said:
‘Your posture is wrong.’
Shoulders back, chest out.
I jolted through the snow pallid
as my surroundings
and he moved majestically in
the white.
When he showed me the top of
the Vatnajökull
the snow scrunched under my
feet.
The earth’s crust tore until
I was standing
upright under an ice cap.
Then over the ice I was just able
to gaze into the world where
the physiotherapist
on his knees stretched out a
hand to me.
Ice water round my feet splatters
into an abyss
into which with a single
step I can disappear.
It is white inside my head.
Can anyone give me details?
I’m standing in the middle
of a baffled universe.
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