milan fw blackout poem

[let us go then, you & i when the evening is spread out against the sky] & in the stars you see

over duomo di milano (hanging, hanging) you, naked, walk to the clothes rack

in the dark after we close out the spagnoli show & under the stars

you are fluid

[in the room the women come & go] for once i see the east market diner with its

doors shut & you call tesoro allora

i look south to find the city sinking in the sea

in twenty years amsterdam will be underwater; you & i

hold hands for the crosswalk & let go

[the yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes] & in backdoor 43 we breathe

summer coming warm against the back of your neck

you run round the traffic circle once

your red hair in the traffic lights

if i cried on the aeroplane then i call you

a ghost of a woman already & not a woman

[& indeed there will be time] for the shores of hard islands called lovers

to soften, & more than that there will be time

for the autumn to grow sun-scarred

nothing in us is bright as the devil in his

big white plastic suit

attending the funeral of a close friend

[in the room the women come & go] if only my heart were not so loud so when you

carry my camera on the train to lake como & i am a feral warm thing

it is the wind, a little shame; you turning over in bed & calling cucciolo

min kjæreste i answer

i call my close friend jannik & he tells me about early hours in nictheroy

he shows me all the sun where i have moon

i have moon & you sleep through it all

[& indeed there will be time] for us to return to the east market diner & find

the sign which says torno subito you laugh

i mistook you for the kind of light that comes between buildings when

i settle back into a corner chair

listening to the girls in the street singing

& i sing som hærsker og rår

[for i have known them all already, known them all] where you, so whole, laid naked

on an empty pillowcase & i struggled to remember

there was once a girl inside your body

som hærsker og rår & if i held it in my mouth, would it melt? i would like to

leave a small warmth where your body was; if i could, i would like to

eat pancetta out of plastic wrap &

i would like to see your body sometime

[& i have known the eyes already, known them all] there are places where rain does not

feel cold, even in the shade beneath a store awning

on via lodovico muratori while

the stars, low & luminous, thin into darkness

[shall i say, i have gone at dusk] after the beccaria show & felt the fear of entering

your body—it is too dark for me; i whisper elskede skatten min when it is

so late at night the night is just

somewhere the moon does not shine & not the moon

[i should have been a pair of ragged claws

scuttling across the floors of silent seas

& the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully] we creep into the bomb shelters

(no one is there) you say isaaco (not my name)

i love you elskede even in the dark of the bomb shelters

i am this shape of hummingbird

watching you from a telephone wire as you bathe

[& would it have been worth it, after all] if the rivers had drained when you said they would

& in the dazzle of sunlight off the reservoir

the city lay flat as a peppermint leaf

in the canals you point out reflections of the clouds & i tell you to walk

faster if the rain falls harder i say (the hummingbirds are dripping from the clouds)

walk faster because the bells are ringing over porta venezia; it is late in the morning &

this crowd stirs around us

& even if i stand here through the rain, is it my shadow in the streetlights

in the yellow fog of the streetlights?

[no! i am not prince hamlet, nor was meant to be]

[i grow old... i grow old…] you turn over in my bed & my forearm grows cold

[shall i part my hair behind? do i dare to eat a peach?] not even your eyes brighten

if the train is leaving jattavagen

& again i hear the street girls singing [i do not think that they will sing to me]

i have seen them riding seaward on the waves

maybe next year i call you up & say i am on my way

you will see me riding seaward on the waves

my clothes soaked through—

i remember leaving the nakashima show & you stood in my way (this last day)

you said daje daje isaaco my god elskede

om æ kunne skrive på himmel

så skreiv æ dit navn

musikken begynn for alvor nu

eg veit den vil forstå meg hvis du går