A Stack Poem

You have Good Bones;

strong, Norwegian bones.

This was said to me as a child,

red wine sloshing in goblets

as I picked up another rolled

lefse pastry smeared with 

sweet cream butter and 

doused with cinnamon.

But now I know she

also meant bones like the Sámi. 

A wild spirit’s paradise

concealed within 

the Universe of Us. 

Native blood flowing

like a sudden rage of 

glacial surge.

I stick my toes in to

test my love of the sea

and, inch by inch,

lower myself down, 

enveloping the chill. 

And with a violent shiver

I am shocked to Keep Moving. 

I know now it’s in my 

blood to keep moving. 

Once tucked inside 

and newly released from

their prisons, these Empty 

Bottles of Stories suddenly 

speak louder;

a record of the 

chase and attainment. 

The lost land and water

The hardship and disapproval. 

The untamed love and legacy. 

And through these bones I learn

that even when forced

to uproot, 

to deny,

even then

even then

 they’ll say

And Yet, 

Look at you. 

Just look.

All Along You Were Blooming.

Like a shallow head pat.

A shiny coat of lacquer to 

gloss over the primal truth.

This Faithful and Virtuous Night,

the bottle has been kicked over, 

It’s contents now as wild

and empowering as my people

walking through the magical

fjords of Senja with these good bones.