Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" ![]() ![]() Reader's Choice of Poems: "'heart's home'" ![]() "In Lagada, la vita" ![]() "Tales told over scones and hot tea" ![]() "La Bella Vita" ![]() "Wheat penny" ![]() Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" ![]() "Death of Jeannie New Moon" ![]() "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" ![]() "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." ![]() "A Thanksgiving Dinner poem and the WDC Zoo" ![]() "Il pleure (poem). We R puddle-luscious, aujourd'hui." ![]() FACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() PLACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
It was the getting up to pee. Hit or miss. Take another sip of water. Do not dehydrate, they told me. Every hour. Aches and pains, toss and turn. Ears, jaw, arm. The refusal of my leg to support my weight, the wobble, the fear of falling. I didn't dream. I just stressed. I napped eyes reluctantly fluttering to chills and fever. I left my door unlocked so they wouldn't have to break down my door to retrieve my putrefying flesh. The following night I slept better than I slept in years. It won't be the virus that kills me. |