an begs the coont tae come oot right.

~

Thay wirno chansan. Olaf taks

a haad o Inga’s impsan, haads

tae whit is aye been shuir. But first

tae laanch means noo thir mosst deep.

Hid disno deu tae mak a coont

o whit’s mistaek an whit’s misanter:

thir no a puckle o meaneen atween them

whan skeel is meetan the cast o time.

The yole an hids fock deu whit they can.

An the yotun’s wind an clood an Lights

is a brutal wheel birlan aa

aroon the stoor’s teum ee.

~

Eynar is comed tae Noor at the Hofn,

waitan in her offiece. A oor

till sheu’s back, lukkan wyld

an peelie-wally. He’s maed tea.

“We missed thee at the Haa,” he says.

Sheu tirvs the muckle pilot glivs

an vacuum-insulaeted gansey,

taks her tea an leuks tae him.

“The Dance?” sheu says. “Oh. I’m sorry.

I lost track of the days.” He shrugs.

“I doot hid’s ferly busy oot here.”

Sheu haals her mynd intae the reum.

“Listen,” sheu says, “I think I’ve found . . .

There’s something . . . the station . . . there’s something changing—”

“Yass,” says Eynar, nervish. “That’s why

A’m here. A’m waantan advice, fae a body—”

(the wirds is teuman oot) “—at’s mibbe

traivelled a bit, so A’m here, an mibbe—”

“No,” says Noor, “I mean— the Lights,

it all makes sense— the wrecks— I mean—”

But Eynar’s een is coman wide.

He draps his cup. Hid hits the deck

an lands in sic a wey hid spins.

The nott o hids skuther o poly on metal

risan as it settles. Noor waits

fer the spin tae stop, an kens, an turns.

An ivry wrack ootbye is appenan.

More flooer as doar. Fractal lines

in reid an gowd spraed ower the waas

the slite plaens faaldan oot –

as gangweys? petals? Sheu sees the laefs

(trees? beuks?) wis hadden by

the maesures sheu’s maed. Eynar yatters.

Sheu canno hear. Sheu’s ferfil caam.

Anunder ivry laef anither.

An than inside? Noor drinks an waits.

~

Whan Darling’s waitan fer the laast,

an Inga oot i’the laast is fightan

wind an tide, an Higgie an Noor

is waatchan thir unfaaldan Light,

Astrid haes the shutters doon

an cruisies slockit. Anunder her blanket,

ower thin, sheu’s tryan tae haad

the pivveran pairts o hersel taegither.

This morneen sheu peyed her ticket back

fae haem tae haem, tae flit as seun

as the morn’s morn, an isno telt

anither saal. Sheu disno hiv

tae gang. Hid’s her fock here. Hid’s Darling

here. Thir maan be a wey tae bide.

Sheu disno hiv tae gang, but that

wis the laast o her credit fae Mars i’the ticket.

Sheu’s stuck hersel flittan or stuck hersel here:

yass, sheu’s ferly stucken hersel

i’the sam bed sheu’s gret in noo

fae sax year aald. Hid disno ken