by Dorthe Nors
The dog whips back and forth.
Karin throws farther and farther.
The dog doesn’t hold back.
Karin casts the stick in the ocean.
The dog throws itself in.
Karin keeps casting the stick.
The dog keeps bounding.
It could continue this way forever, but
Minna’s got to get to it.
Minna reads:
Karin’s discovered that she’s been unfriended.
Karin’s hurt.
Karin repeats the gist from last time.
Karin just spices up the gist a bit:
Jutlandic women can fuck!!!
Music should be popular!!!
Music shouldn’t be deep!!!
KARIN LOVES BRYAN ADAMS!!!
Minna swallows her cracker.
Karin keeps going: I feel bad for you!!!
Karin can say more: You’ll come to regret it!!!
Minna’s counted Karin’s exclamation points.
The email contains fifty-six exclamation points.
That’s plenty, but
Minna doesn’t even feel like crying.
Minna’s anesthetized to blows.
Minna looks out the window.
Minna looks down upon the transport tsunami.
The network people whiz away.
The network people have business cards.
A chink suffices.
The darkness yields willingly, but
Network hearts don’t have the time.
Minna considers her hands.
Minna thinks her hands resemble thimbles.
Minna’s hands are thimbles.
Thimbles can’t grab.
The world around is laid with tile.
Network people are highly polished.
Minna shakes herself.
Minna tests her grasping power on her hair.
Her fingers can still grab herself hard.
Better than nothing, thinks Minna, and sits down.
Paper sonatas don’t write themselves.
Minna bikes to the Royal Library.
The city’s blazing hot from the sun.
The cell’s blazing hot from messages.
Elisabeth’s after her.
Elisabeth’s ten years older than Minna.
Elisabeth’s married to a successful optician.
Elisabeth lives in Potato Row.
The optician’s skinny and dry.
Minna understands him.
The optician’s a guest in his own home.
Guests have it rough at Elisabeth’s.
Shoes have to be taken off in the hall.
Shoes must never cross the threshold.
The guest has to pee.
The guest really has to pee.
The john lies on the far side of the utility room.
The shoes have to be removed anyway.
The shoes have to be put on and taken off without leaning on the walls.
The walls in the hallway must not get any grimy spots.
The bench in the hallway must not have any bottoms upon it.
The bench is not to sit on.
The bench is there to create harmony in the hallway.
The guest is barefoot and entering a house full of rules.
Elisabeth makes the rules.
No one else has permission to make rules in the house.
Cutlery must not clink against the service.
The table must not be wiped with a wet rag.
Books must be bound in dust jackets.
Fingers must not touch the pictures.
The coffee mugs must not stand without coasters underneath.
The coffee mugs must not contain coffee.
Coffee is forbidden at Elisabeth’s.
Everyone must drink tea.
The optician gets the trots from tea, but
The optician must remove his shoes before he runs out to the john.
The optician struggles with his suede shoes in the hallway.
The optician is afraid to place his fingers anywhere.
The optician just reaches the toilet in his stocking feet.
The shit runs out of him like green tea.
Elisabeth shouts, Is that you, honey?
The shit runs and runs.
The optician considers whether he dares to shit any more.
Elisabeth shouts, Is that you who came home, honey?
The optician reaches for the toilet paper.
The optician remembers to tear it off in a straight line.
The optician is lonesome, completely without allies.
Elisabeth and the optician have neither dog nor kids.
It’s sad, but
One thing is certain:
Kids set their bottoms everywhere.
Elisabeth is turning fifty besides.
Elisabeth is still pretty.
Elisabeth’s hair is light like Minna’s, but
Elisabeth’s hair doesn’t dare curl.
Elisabeth is illuminated.
Elisabeth is an act of will.
Elisabeth’s sent Minna a stream of messages.
Minna sits on her bike and reads them.
Minna approaches Knippel Bridge.
Minna has one hand on the handlebars.
Minna has one eye on the display.
Elisabeth wants her to phone.
Elisabeth wants her to drop by.
Minna passes the Stock Exchange.
Minna holds for a bus.
Minna MUST ring between two and four.
Minna MUST NOT ring at any other time.
Elisabeth practices yoga and meditates.
The day is scheduled.
Elisabeth says it’s about respecting others’ needs.
Minna understands:
Lars has a need to screw a celebrity.
Jette has a need to share her sex life.
Karin has a need to take up space in the countryside.
Linda Lund has a need for an audience.
Minna has to get up to stand on the pedals.
Minna is honked at.
Minna bikes out into the intersection by the Stock Exchange.
Elisabeth pursues her.
Elisabeth was an only child for ten years.
Elisabeth’s still an only child.
Elisabeth is no healthier than Karin.
Karin requires a host animal.
Elisabeth requires weak creatures.
Weak creatures can defer their needs.
Elisabeth has to be done with hers first.
Elisabeth will never be done with hers.
Elisabeth was never at Ballehage Beach either.
The sand was untidy, but
Dad and Minna could dive.
Minna’s not weak.
Minna won’t!
The traffic roars around Minna.
The traffic’s unsafe.
Minna turns past Det Røde Palæ.
Minna bikes and taps.
Minna taps, I’m just on my bike.
Elisabeth orders her to call anyway.
Minna turns off her cell.
Minna drops the cell into her bag.
The bag trembles in the bike basket.
Minna trembles on the bike, but
Paper sonatas don’t write themselves.
The quay oozes female students.
The police officers are back in Karen Blixen.
The officers stand smoking on the quay.
The officers keep an eagle eye on the students.
The students don’t see the officers.
The students cast their hair about.
Their hair flips from side to side.
The students get to their feet.
The officers get to their feet.
The students’ legs grow long.
The officers’ pants have pockets.
The officers tug at their pockets.
The officers camouflage their sperm-filled bits.
Minna and
Jette sit sans camouflage in the midst of it all.
Jette’s eyes are insistent.
Minna has a hard time relaxing.
The legs biking.
The arms warding off blows.
The body full of vim.
The soul supposed to sit still.
It ain’t easy.
Jette notices that sort of thing.
Jette says, You seem stressed out.
Minna replies, I’ve got a little too much going on.
Jette says, Tell, tell!
Minna says, Oh, you know …
Jette says, You shouldn’t walk around keeping everything bottled up.
Minna says, The paper sonata’s bumping along.
Minna says that she’ll buy a keyboard.
Jette thinks she could just use her Mac.
Macs have a program for composers.
Macs are easy to figure out.
Minna doesn’t want to say that she can’t figure them out.
Minna doesn’t want to satisfy Jette’s need to know better.
Minna says, It’s my sister, that’s all.
Minna points at the mermaid on the quay.
The mermaid by the Royal Library is more appealing than Langelinie’s.
The mermaid by the Royal Library is anything but charming.
The mermaid by the Royal Library can do somersaults.
The mermaid has just come ashore.
The quay is a rock.
The mermaid has a hold, but
The world makes it tough.
Anne Marie Carl-Nielsen made the mermaid.
Anne Marie Carl-Nielsen was kind to animals.
Anne Marie Carl-Nielsen was married to Carl Nielsen.
Anne Marie Carl-Nielsen was a great sculptor.
Carl Nielsen was a great composer.
Carl Nielsen wasn’t an easy man to be married to, says Minna.
Carl Nielsen couldn’t ignore his needs.
Carl was a firecracker.
Carl was a billy goat.
Anne Marie sculpted horses in Jutland.
Carl had ladies visit in Copenhagen.
Anne Marie’s horses got bigger and bigger.
Carl’s ladies got rifer and rifer.
Anne Marie placed herself beneath the horses.
Carl placed himself beneath the ladies.
Anne Marie had to learn to forgive.
Anne Marie had to stomach it.
The mermaid casts herself up out of the sea.
The mermaid contracts like a muscle before it explodes.
The mermaid clings to dry land, angry and insecure.
The mermaid is pure wet will.
She gasps.
She stares at the quay’s young people.
Carl Nielsen was a handsome man, says Jette.
Carl Nielsen was stumpy, says Minna.
Carl Nielsen could’ve been my lover, says Jette.
The conversation’s taken a familiar turn.
The Russian has a wife in Moscow.
The wife in Moscow doesn’t know a thing.
Minna looks at the mermaid.
The mermaid knows all.
Minna’s mother lives in Aarhus.
Minna’s from Jutland, just like Karin.
Minna’s just not from Jutland in the same way.
Minna’s from Marselisborg Forest.
Minna’s an old man’s daughter.
Minna’s a younger widow’s caboose.
Mom’s still a widow, but
Mom’s got a boyfriend.
The boyfriend’s name is Finn.
Finn and Mom go to museums.
Finn and Mom attend folk high school.
Finn and Mom each live alone.
Mom’s too old for the whole package.
Finn would otherwise be interested, but
Mom’s master in her own house.
Mom’s also good at staying in touch.
Mom’s taken a computer class at the Senior Club.
Mom’s on Facebook.
Mom’s got a blog.
Mom can text.
Elisabeth says you’re feeling poorly, she writes.
Elisabeth’s worried, she writes.
Mom’s worried too.
Minna stands in the hallway and reads.
Minna considers getting a cat.
The cat’d come stealing in from the living room.
The cat’d rub up against Minna’s leg.
The cat and Bergman, Minna thinks.
Minna collapses on the couch.
Bergman rests on the table.
Bergman’s there for the grasping.
You’ll do what’s needed, he says.
Failures can have a fresh, bitter taste, he says.
Minna lays him to her breast.
Bergman makes himself at home there.
Minna closes her eyes:
Minna can hear the cars down on the street.
Minna can hear herself drawing breath.
Bergman curls up into a ball.
Minna dozes.
Minna dreams of a house on a hill.
The yard bulges with fruit and lilacs.
Phlox, mallow, iris blossoming.
The gable wall glows with English roses.
The fjord flashes at the foot of the hill.
Minna’s seated on the patio.
The boats tack into the wind.
The henhouse has been whitewashed.
The henhouse is the rehearsal space.
The grand piano stands plumb in the middle.
Minna turns her face toward the sun.
Minna’s chest arches over her heart.
The heart is lovely in its dissolution.
The heart has weathered the storm.
Minna listens to the interior of the house.
The door’s opened and shut.
Keys are laid upon the table.
Someone’s approaching the patio door.
Lars stands there smiling.
Lars bends over his woman.
Lars caresses his woman’s belly.
The baby kicks inside.
The reaper-binder rattles outside.
The skylarks sing high in the air.
The rifle club’s meeting in the gravel pit.
The rifle club shoots clay pigeons.
The clay pigeons whiz across the landscape.
The clay pigeons are shot or shatter when they fall.
The clay pigeons fall and fall.
Minna’s wakened by a muffled thud on the floor.
It’s Bergman.
It’s Monday, Minna remembers.
It’s all just Amager, she remembers.
It’s a miracle.
Elisabeth’s visiting Minna’s apartment.
Elisabeth stands in the middle of the living room.
Elisabeth’s in stocking feet.
The face as hard as enamel.
Elisabeth’s rage is family legend.
The examples are legion:
Elisabeth removes bikes in Potato Row.
Nothing may shade the house.
Nothing may destroy the harmony of the façade.
Elisabeth doesn’t move the bikes a couple yards.
Elisabeth walks around to other streets with the bikes.
No one should think they’re safe.
Elisabeth threatens people with lawsuits and psychotic episodes.
Elisabeth drives people to numerologists, and even worse:
Elisabeth once made Mom have a breakdown over a piece of royal porcelain.
Elisabeth’s aligned the stars on her side, and now she stands in the living room:
Dust rises: Didn’t I tell you to call?
Elisabeth continues, Didn’t I tell you to come by?
Minna proffers tea.
Elisabeth sets her purse down on the coffee table.
Elisabeth’s eyes flit from the dirty laundry to Bach.
Elisabeth eyes need to shut for a bit.
Minna edges past he
r sister.
Minna pours calcified water into two mugs from IKEA.
Minna stuffs in the teabags.
Minna walks back to the living room.
Elisabeth has seated herself.
Minna sets a mug before her.
Elisabeth doesn’t want the tea.
The tea ought to be green, So why didn’t you call?
Minna doesn’t manage to answer.
Elisabeth cranks up the language.
The language lashes Minna.
The language is a castigation.
Minna sips her tea.
Sisters should be therefor each other, Elisabeth says.
Sisters should save each other from the muck.
Minna’s life gleams with muck, Is it that reporter?
Minna says it might be.
Elisabeth sighs.
Elisabeth reaches out for her purse.
Minna knows what’s coming: the prescription.
Elisabeth’s into Ayurvedic medicine.
Ayurvedic medicine stems from India.
Ayurvedic medicine divides people into types.
Elisabeth is fire, Elisabeth says.
Minna’s mud.
No one’s surprised.
Elisabeth’s been to the Bookstore of the Unknown.
Elisabeth’s bought a book about demons.
The demons are Indian.
The book’s dust jacket is black.
Elisabeth says that the book will provide Minna with fire.
Indian demons are good at rage.
Demons transform through destruction.
Minna watches her sister’s face: it actually opens up.
The face is a soup pot of crazy ideas.
The sister feels certain the reporter can be exorcised.
Minna will see, it’ll be a relief.
Minna looks at the book and understands.
Minna is a weak creature.
Elisabeth’s stronger.
Minna thanks her.
Minna’s a pleaser.
Elisabeth’s rage is legend in the family, but
Elisabeth’s doing better now.
Elisabeth gets up and adjusts her clothing.
A vacuum cleaner wouldn’t hurt, Elisabeth says.
Minna nods.
Aarhus is still on the map, Elisabeth says.
Minna nods.
Dad got to be old as the hills.
Minna nods.
Life goes on.
Minna nods.
It’s really late, her sister says.
Minna nods and nods and nods.
Elisabeth’s demons lie on the nightstand.
Minna can’t sleep.
The demons sneak about in the dark.
The demons reek of soot.
Minna switches on the light and opens the door to the kitchen stairs.
Minna goes down into the backyard and its twilight.
The man in number eight’s watching soccer.
The woman in number four’s having sex.