As she pulls up to the house for the first time, Tess spots the white goat. It stands in the fenced-in side yard, chewing on tufts of weeds and watching as she steps out of the car.
14. (and other poems by Rannvá Holm Mortensen)
everything is salt
the salt of the sea
the salt in the blood
you and me
By the easy slide of cool water, she, who is always flying, slows down. Maybe she’ll drop her bike, there, on the bank, lots of shady spots beneath the trees. Maybe she’ll pull off her shoes. Wade into the water. See what the pebbles are doing.