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reply from oslo
Saturday, May 9, 2009
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Cigarettes in silver boxes,
pale flashes of mood
at a corner table.

The tall girl roosts
beside me in the dark,
her hands form a cradle

she stares into, a portrait
of her wedding day in Kragero,
where waves eat the coast.

A month from now
you will send a letter.
You too will have married

a sober engineer
on a windy cliff. And I
will have finished my poem

with a puzzling
digression on cartography,
meant to suggest

that I have found a passage
North, that I have left
the last of our cities.