i’the wey o thir grip: ower closs

or ower lowse or glydan by

wi the aese o binary starns. (Ya, but

thir aye anither body coman

on anither curve tae mak

a fankelt problem, an best kens

whit wey the calculaetions come.)

~

Noor isno coman. Sheu’s at the Hofn,

alaen, no myndan, mummlan nummers,

testan oot equaetions, rypan

the mosst obscure o airticles

i’the laest reputable o jurnals

fer ivry uncan formula

tae shape aroon the shape o the wracks.

Ayont her een the Lights is gaitheran;

ahint her, paitrens sheu canno see.

Sheu’s pittan her haands tae the black waas:

no clift tae rive at or kneb tae press,

but sheu’s pressan, room by room.

Pick that, feel this, kick yin, caam doon.

Nivver kens sheu hoo desire is comed,

or if hid’ll faa intae notheen again.

Sheu bides wi the draem an no wi time.

~

Thir dance is oot the ither side

o night, the cruisies giean the wynds

a dairker reid fer gangan haem.

But plenty’s left fer dansan yet.

Gunnie becks tae Higgie wi aa

the coortesy o young tae aald.

Thay whip her awey. Brenna’s taen

her sleepan sister oot fer a waaltz.

Inga an Øyvind is comed in late

tae hae the virr fer the best o the dance:

fock drucken an lipperan wi haanless joy.

Thir steps an skips is naet an queek,

birlan each ither wi weel-kent airms.

Olaf an Erlend tummle afore thaim:

thay loup the footers no brakkan thir baet.

Øyvind wis taen ower lang tae win haem

fae ooter space, an Inga wis born

an wun ages wi him in his final run,

but thay aye coud dance. Thay hurl

doon the Haa’s muckle set.

~

But Darling an Astrid isno thir.

Thir comed oot the back o the Haa tae a bell

tae braethe an waatch anither stoor,

the Lights’ antics in time wi the meusic.

Anunder the glamour Darling speirs

again: “Could I take a name?” An Astrid

turns. “We gie. But thoo – tae wha?

Wha kens thee enogh tae gie hid back?

Thoo canno jeust tak whit thoo waants.” “What I need,”

says Darling, wi peedie voyce, but this

is warse. “Yin’s whit I sayed,” spits Astrid,

een reflectan the skyran Lights.

Darling isno deualess. Wi feck,

sheu pelters Astrid. Sheu naems the dreids

at Astrid thinks is darnt but lie

ower closs tae the skin. Sheu fires:

“Just because you lost your home,

doesn’t mean the rest of us

can’t look for ours,” an “Some of us never

had a piece.” The wird is cruel.

“You can’t understand what it’s like, to free

yourself from all this expectation,

to have to remake yourself.” Is Darling

listened tae notheen o Astrid’s haem?

Or ower much? Sheu isno telt

enogh o her life tae fer this tae laand

ither as cruel, her waants fankled

i’the voyce o pouer. So Astrid plays