In a silent forest # 68047
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In the Forest of Silence. Poems by Kristján from Djúpalækur. Second edition.
Hand
The hand is blue and swollen,
bent fingers and knotted,
a potato nail bursting into magma,
knees bruised, in wounds.
The soot sits in the cracks,
The leaves are hard in the palm of your hand,
She is chosen, and in a hurry
The world took hold of her.
However, no other has
more intimate or warmer
been covered with light
my locks than this one.
Hand
The hand is blue and swollen,
bent fingers and knotted,
a potato nail bursting into magma,
knees bruised, in wounds.
The soot sits in the cracks,
The leaves are hard in the palm of your hand,
She is chosen, and in a hurry
The world took hold of her.
However, no other has
more intimate or warmer
been covered with light
my locks than this one.