Wake up in Östermalm, south to Gamla Stan.
I walk,
it is a cool day with albumen clouds,
rivers of snow gloss the streets ecru.
- Meet outside the bookstore;
Pippi Långstrump grins at me from behind glass.
The blue and yellow of the Nordic cross
prods out from a shop, primrose-skin buildings,
streets riddled with syllables,
Västerlånggatan, Tyska Brinken,
graffiti a ****** siren on the walls.
- ’75 the first time here, Waterloo a year before,
birth of the famous foursome
to karaoke machines from Södermalm to south Japan.
And again, new millennium,
a second time in ’16 where love was love
and peace was peace.
- Practise the numbers. Seven is sju,
my mouth producing rare noise,
a wispy word between show and swear.
- We walk.
Splashes of island and butterscotch-haired teens.
A girl hums a Melfest song.
I toss a Sverigedemokraterna leaflet in the bin.
- The waitress could be Lisbeth and AVICII’s playing
and isn’t it beautiful, you, and this,
where we have found ourselves.
NOTE: Each second stanza is supposed to be indented from the right hand side, but HP is not having it. The first stanza should also begin with a dash.
Written: 2018/19.
Explanation: A poem that was part of my MFA Creative Writing manuscript, in which I wrote poems about cities that have staged the Eurovision Song Contest, or taken the name of a song and written my own piece inspired by the title. I have received a mark for this body of work now, so am sharing the poems here.
