Thursday, 29 April 2021

Kjell Espmark: 'Impromptu'


It’s a gale-ridden day.

We’ve rowed till the whitewashed walls turned black

but found a way back

to you, to me.

I raise myself slightly so sweaty skin

rustlingly slides off skin

and nestle my heart close to yours:

an earthenware plate tipping over another.


The window is open: May is blue.

In the beam above us death advances

the thousandth part of an inch, with a snap.

But the rosefinch on the naked branch

sings and sings away.

The down on its breast fluffs in the wind.

So much greater its song is

than its quavering body!

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