A troll is not a little thing it’s a living stone
a stone that knows how to move
a stone with hands and only the huldra tames him
or so I read in a book I wrote
I found it on my phone faces made of shadows
light itself is made of their soft fur
they’re all around us their breath the thunder
all summer I’ve been translating from the birds
now who will be my dragoman
and guide you cleanly through my cloying text?
it’s done already! you’ve read and understood!
what else is there to tell but the sound of it?
All that’s missing is the rain of gold
on Danae’s spread self, the blue flower
clinging to your fingertips the crow calling loud
right overhead to tell me what’s what
the time has come he says kairos
like a glee or a gospel anything you choose
long as it has a tune in it
the watchman on the roof stirs in his sleep
the trees wake up and tremble at that song
you wear your clothes woven from the stars
I know who you are but with all
my talk that’s the one word I won’t say.