It feels so strange this
Sitting in a small red house in the Northwoods
On New Year’s Eve
I go out side to look at the moon
Squinting, trying to see those
on the other side of the stars

Who I am now, I do not know
I would like to ask someone here
Who knows me a little
Who am I to you?
The question makes my tongue taste like salt and embarrassment

I would like to hang on to it, the thing I was in my father’s eyes
Did it have something to do with the snow roses on the frosty morning window?
It was something good, I am almost assured. It’s the part I have to keep
I wonder if it’s still there, the blue backbone,
Glowing through my spine
Spiraling through the universe

Poem by Torunn Aberle

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