Dorthe Nors - So Much for That Winter

Minna revolves around with the officer.

Minna is walking and going round.

The revolving door mechanism feels defective.

The officer gets his foot caught.

The revolving door stops heavily.

The revolving door spits Minna out like a clay pigeon.

Iceland Wharf lies far beneath Minna.

Iceland Wharf shines flat and practical.

Minna sees far beneath her the mermaid on the quay.

Minna looks out across the city.

Minna floats.

Minna’s in flight over Copenhagen.

Minna’s an instance of female buoyancy and helium.

Lars is as silent as the grave, but

Karin’s answered quickly.

Minna’s seated herself in her kitchen at home.

Minna doesn’t dare open the email from Karin.

Karin plays accordion.

Minna and Karin took a class together.

Karin latched onto Minna.

Minna is somewhat of a host species.

Minna has now finally told Karin to stop.

The decision’s good enough.

The decision was just made too late.

Karin feels bad now.

Karin’s self-worth has been damaged.

Karin’s self-worth is Jutlandic.

Karin brags about motocross, sex, and pork sausage.

Karin’s married to a farmer.

The farmer’s bought up the parish.

The parish belongs to Karin.

Karin drinks tall boys.

Karin plays folk dances.

Karin’s on the gym board.

Karin sticks her hand all the way up her neighbor.

Karin grasps the inner udder.

Karin milks.

Karin pinches and squeezes.

The teat yields.

The teat’s tugged long and white.

The teat grows tender and stiff.

The teat grows so tired in the end.

Minna also wrote her, Now relax, but

Karin doesn’t need to restrain herself:

Karin goes to zumba.

Minna was right to break up with her.

A person ought to defend herself.

Minna opens the email from Karin.

Minna’s right.

Karin writes nasty things about Minna.

Minna can’t for example land a man.

Men don’t want women like Minna.

Age will drag you down!!! Karin writes.

Barrenness will haunt you!!! Karin writes, and continues:

Minna doesn’t know how to live.

Minna only knows how to think.

Karin’s got everything that Minna wants.

Karin’s got a dog, a man, and kids.

Karin’s got five hundred acres of land.

Minna’s got zilch.

Minna’s lonely, a failure, and deserves to be pissed on.

Karin pisses.

Minna thinks that should suffice.

People are getting worse and worse.

Middle fingers poke out of car windows.

Small dogs shit before her entry.

Young men shout whore.

The three Billy Goats Gruff play havoc in nice folks’ sunrooms.

People’s faces look kind.

People’s faces aren’t kind.

Minna wants to reply.

Minna wants to write nasty things too, but

Minna thinks enough’s enough.

Minna longs for shut traps.

Minna longs for stillness and beauty.

Minna seats herself by the window.

Minna looks down on the street.

Minna watches a small dog gently squeeze out a turd up onto the curbstone.

Night has descended on Amager.

Denmark is laid in darkness.

The Sound flows softly.

The planes take off and land.

Minna awakens.

Minna gasps.

Lars was in the dream.

Minna and Lars were at the beach.

Minna was buried with just her head free.

The sea was rough at the foot of the dune.

The sea raged, foaming white.

Dad stood in the breakers and waved.

Minna wanted to grab Lars in her haste.

Minna wriggled her arms.

The arms wouldn’t budge.

Lars pelted her with sand.

Lars patted her hard with a shovel.

Lars poured water over her.

Lars used her to build a sand castle.

The wave reached land.

The wave reached land and trickled slowly.

The beads of gravel rattled.

Dad vanished.

Minna awoke.

Minna turned on the light and now it is quiet.

Amager steams with rain.

The rain refracts off the manholes.

Minna never bakes cake.

Minna gets up to bake a cake.

Minna bakes a cake in the middle of the night.

Cake is the opiate of the people.

Jette sits on the quay and is intimate.

Minna’s brought cake for coffee.

Minna unwraps the tinfoil from a piece of cake.

The tinfoil feels childish.

The cake isn’t very good either.

Jette’s been to a seminar.

Jette has a new lover.

The lover’s Russian.

The Russian’s as hot as fresh borscht.

The Russian’s French is good.

Jette’s got Reds in her pleasure pavilion, thinks Minna.

Minna looks at the mermaid on the quay.

The mermaid is green.

The mermaid cannot swim.

The mermaid would sink to the bottom immediately.

Minna says, Such sun!

Jette says, What about you?

Minna says, I’m working on the paper sonata.

Minna knows perfectly well that Jette means sex.

Minna knows perfectly well that Jette wants to trade moisture.

Minna knows perfectly well that Jette’s leading on points.

Karin too.

Minna understands completely.

It’s something to do with physics.

It’s also something to do with the soul.

Minna can’t explain it.

Minna bloody won’t explain it either.

Minna looks at the mermaid.

The mermaid’s tail fin is cast in bronze.

The mermaid’s tail fin can’t slap.

The world is a suit of clothes.

The clothes too tight.

The corneas drying out.

Minna stretches: Work calls.

Jette says, Leaving already?

Minna is.

Minna disappears up to the reading room.

Minna stares at her in-box.

Everyone writes and no one answers, thinks Minna.

Elisabeth’s written.

Elisabeth will treat her to a cup of tea.

Elisabeth is Minna’s big sister.

Karin, Elisabeth, and Jette, thinks Minna.

Women in their prime.

Women with the right to vote.

Women with educations.

Women with their own needs.

Women with herb gardens and the pill.

Steamrollers, thinks Minna.

One mustn’t think like that.

Women are awful to women, Minna’s mother always said.

Mom’s right, but

Women are tough to swallow.

Minna doesn’t understand why men like women.

Women want to cross the finish line first.

Women want to look good on the podium.

Women are in the running, but

Minna’s from another world.

Minna’s a composer.

Minna’s not a mother.

Minna doesn’t have a mothers’ group.

Minna sees the mothers’ group often.

The mothers’ group takes walks in Amager.

The mothers’ group drives in formation.

The mothers’ group is scared of getting fat.

The mothers’ group goes jogging with their baby buggies.

The mothers’ group eats cake at the café.

The mothers’ group contends gently for the view.

The baby buggies pad the façade.

The baby buggies form a breastwork.

Minna fears the mothers’ group.

Minna cannot say that out loud.

Minna has no child.

Minna can’t let herself say anything.

Minna’s not home free.

Minna once won a prize for some chamber music.

Minna would rather have gotten a license to live.