................................................................................................
The Poetry Of...
Jan Oskar Hansen....................................
A new Santa.
On a kitchen chair looking out, Christmas eve,
afternoon, had my doubt about Santa,
but if it snowed I was ready to believe.
only hoped he didn't smell of booze and speak
as uncle Joe; it did snow, big fat flakes on top
of the other weaved a into a brilliant carpet of
Nordic Yule mystic
Later it cleared,
the starlit heaven,
so close I could,
if I had a step ladder,
reach up and touch
them
Grandma had gone out to visit a sick friend,
there was a knock on the door in came Santa
in long skirt. Bizarre. Knew it was her,
my heart sank, but she had a big sack of gifts,
so I pretended and that made everyone glad.
The Bus
The bus, of the world, was going uphill, to the last village
on its route, when it stalled and stopped, it darkened till
a light from outer galaxy lit up, made the day phosphorous
green, an unearthly wind blew, made leaves on trees into
clanking diamonds and dust on the road into gold.
A man emptied his plastic bag of food on to the floor,
got out and filled it with gold, his future safe, or so he thought.
This couldn't go on Dona Manuela, the postmistress, was waiting,
the bus stalled a few time but wheezy started, it really needed a service
and new exhaust pipe, but the old mechanic and his son had stopped
coming around. A man on the bus, held on to bag of wet snow; he wouldn't
let go of his delusion, tomorrow maybe, when they whispered
about him, he could laugh with the laughers or run away.
Widows and Warriors
On the plateau a file of women, all in black,
war widows waiting to be given, tea, bread
and rice from two men in a pickup truck.
The men spoke hoarsely, shushing them on,
found their work shameful would rather have
been up in the mountain fighting, thought
the women superfluous, they had given births
to sons who now fought wars and daughters
married to warriors in the mountain.
The women didn't look the men in the eyes
spoke softly and briefly amongst themselves
about the health of their grand children, they
had miles to walk, back down to meagre soil
and skinny goats
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