Poem of the Week, by Niels Hav
Friends, I’ll be teaching a year-long FICTION writing class on Zoom, via the Loft Literary Center. The workshop, which will take place Tuesday evenings from 6-9 Central time, begins in June and is open to anyone anywhere in the world with an interest in writing any kind of fiction. Click here for many more details.
The first time I walked into my house it felt happy and full of life and I made an offer then and there. It’s well over a hundred years old, still young by Alison-house standards. It began life as a single-family house, turned into a boarding house in World War II (some of the bedroom doors are numbered, and when we knocked out a wall it was insulated with newspapers from 1945), and now it’s triplex-ish.
Sometimes I wonder about the people who lived here before me. Hints live on in bits of wallpaper at the back of an ancient closet – who chose that pattern? Who was the person who planted the rhododendron that bloomed solo before I turned the place into a riot of flowers? How many babies learned to walk in this house? How many fell in love, fell out of love, grew into people who maybe drive by now and think, Who lives here now, in the rooms I knew so well?
The Battered Inside, by Niels Hav, translated by PK Brask & Patrick Friesen
The battered inside of the cupboard under the kitchen sink
makes me happy. Here are two honest nails
hammered into the original boards that have been there
since the apartment block was built. It’s like revisiting
forgotten members of our closest family.
At some point the boards were blue; there is some leftover red
and a green pastel. The kitchen sink is new
and the counter has been raised ten centimeters. Probably
it’s been renovated several times through the years.
The kitchen has remained current; there are new lamps,
electric stove, fridge and coffee maker.
But here under the sink a time warp has been allowed
its hidden existence. Here is the wash tub with the floor cloth,
the plunger and a forgotten bit of caustic soda.
Here the spider moves about undisturbed.
Maybe there’s been kissing and dancing in this kitchen
Probably there’s been crying.
Happy people newly in love have prepared fragrant meals
and later cooked porridge while making sandwiches for lunch boxes.
Hungry children have stolen cookies. Laughter has resounded
in the stairwell and ropes have been skipped in the yard
while new cars were being parked outside. People moved in and out,
old ones died and were carried downstairs, newborn babies
were carried upstairs. Everything according to order—
my nameplate will also disappear from the door one day.
I get down on my knees in front of the kitchen sink
and respectfully greet the plunger, the spider
and the two honest nails.
Click here for more information about Danish poet Niels Hav. Today’s poem is from his poetry collection Moments of Happiness, published by Anvil Press, Vancouver.
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