Comrade

She swallowed gray
a mouthful of false hues
drawn from weeping women
baking sorrow from scratch
...later
she joined them in the making
of gaudy gift baskets
for other women
who wish to swallow gray

Heading for downtown Reykjavik

He tells me
that women should
speak their mind
and ask men
for temporary loving
in the shadow
of fierce fires burning
inside bottled lust

He says to pour out
heavy sorrows
and let the wind do
what it wills
throw up droplets
or pull down rain
from clear skies

Maybe

He has forgotten
that tangos
are danced best by two
and if sorrows or lust
come together
it is not of their choosing

and always, always
it is the beat that matters

(for Gudjon who thinks so and Siggi who believes celibacy is not a choice)

If it could be twilight forever

I could maybe brave
the winters of loneliness.
Find solace in the silence
of a land, cold and warm
to new things thrown
on its icy shores