254: The Norwegian Shore

I want to capture the warmth under my palm, the silence

of lapping waves on a sunny day when the seagulls

have flown out to harass a trawler on its way in.

I want to etch the warmth into the pages like preserved nuggets

of second-hand experience, a kindness that hides

between words like dust on library shelves.

The rock I am sitting on is plain mica slate, grey

but shimmering in the sunlight, some other preserves

trapped within its folds. It absorbs the heat

and warms me from beneath

while my feet sink into blue clay wobbly with salt water

and sand. I pull the sunhat over my eyes,

the ice in my bones thawing into silence.

When the water rises, it will cover this rock

and slowly carve out the clay. The dust and scintillas

will soak the sun-gifted heat

and fold into new rocks, formed of deposits and pressure.

But for now,

we sit.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.