Midnight sun

It’s been daytime for a month now and the curtains aren’t working,
it’s been too bright, too warm,
where do we live again – conversation
every single morning for two weeks.
I shiver in the shadow and wish for snow, heavy snow,
featherlight on my face,
I could bury myself under it and
never come up.
Someone tells me they like it up here, so good to get away from the city, they say,
so quiet.
I respond with squinting and
because I can barely hear them over the cacophony of seagulls eating their daily offering from the village fishermen.
And my curtains are made out of heavy velvet
I think I can easily imagine how it would feel to strangle someone.
Iced coffee?
Sweet smile and sweeter caffeine like a sledgehammer to my system and thank god.
Thank god
I still feel something even if it is this vibrating thing under my skin because
I am one with the grass, and sweat and shivering in the shadow.
A neighbour knocks on the gate and yells
Oh my god it’s so warm,
where do we live again!
I close my eyes and drink my coffee.


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