He
dreamed that he was
bow-leggèd
and dead:
sentenced
to be saddled
to an
addled yellow quadruped.
The
questions that this begged
of
course were legion.
The
light was unambiguously
Nordic,
though: Norwegian,
he’d
have said, which might have
borne
the tendrils of a meaning:
before
his mother died she
had
a vision of fjords: leaning
on
the railing of a boat,
and
looking out. That this flouted
in
some manner his bow-
leggèdness
he never doubted.
Dreams
and all
their
themes.
Funny
little
schemes.
.
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