Excerpts from
Reconstruction
By Nicolaj Stochholm
You will give her nothing of this, you want to hold her fast, you want to hold
her with the unnameable around your lives and she hears you, she
forsakes your silence, she does not feel your arms that seize her
to hold on
She speaks and you understand that her words turn into breakwaters that
fall down on the beach and crush your boat as the first thing of all and you
give her back to the sea, the wind and the winter’s white blossoming
and yourself to the limitless
Alone you can see your reflection in the patterns of night and go searching among objects
find the metamorphosis of objects among your vocal chords, thus you begin
to find your way in the dark and your heart can sometimes fly with
each wing of skin.
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