The Norwegian Grandson

I am the grandchild of Norwegian forgetters.

I am a nephew of those who stole the onions.

We are all guests at the criminal's wedding.

We sense despair and injustice when we pick up

A fallen wren's nest, but we love to feel

The little crackling of the abandoned eggshells.

Drinking a drop of water increases our thirst.

Black-and-white movies intensify our longing

For night to arrive and take over from day.

The shadowy cave we live in extends far out

Over the world. Plato said that. Even Amundsen

And all his dogs couldn't find the end of it.

Stars have set so often in the woods without

Bringing the Magi, that the badger drinks

Sadness each time his nose touches the water.

Last night I brought my grief to my teacher.

I asked him what I could do about that.

He said, "I thought you came because you liked me!"