by Dorthe Nors
The amateurs loved Minna.
The amateurs pinched her on the cheek.
The amateurs wanted to sing at the farewell party.
The party was full of music that Minna had inflicted on their world.
Minna wept.
Minna felt ashamed.
Minna needed rent money.
Minna was keeping the wolf from the door, but
The wolf was preferable in the end.
Minna quit and is now en route to Bornholm.
Minna sits behind Bergman on the Leonora Christine.
Minna has recognized the hindmost retiree.
The retiree’s named Gunvor Kramer.
Gunvor Kramer’s a happy amateur.
Gunvor Kramer’s a sincere person, but even worse:
Gunvor’s on Facebook, and even worse:
Gunvor’s convinced that she and Minna are colleagues.
Gunvor recorded a Christmas tape.
Gunvor recorded it on a reel-to-reel.
The reel-to-reel stands in Gunvor’s living room.
Gunvor is thus a composer.
Gunvor writes Minna often.
Gunvor writes about her breakthroughs in the art of music, but even worse:
Gunvor Kramer’s aboard the Leonora Christine.
Gunvor Kramer’s set a course for Minna.
Minna knows that her holiday hangs by a thread.
Gunvor’s in a car, you see.
Gunvor would like to chauffeur Minna around the island.
Gunvor would like to sing all her compositions for Minna, vibrato.
Minna presses Bergman to her face.
Gunvor passes by somewhere to the rear.
Gunvor walks slowly, slowly.
Minna turns cautiously.
Gunvor has sat down two booths away, with her back to Minna.
It’s silly of course.
Gunvor’s merely a person.
Gunvor loves #544 in the tired Danish songbook.
Gunvor loves chain dancing.
Gunvor has a droopy bosom.
Minna was dragged in as an unwilling witness.
Minna tucks Bergman into her backpack.
Minna rediscovers her sunglasses.
The sunglasses slip down in front of her face.
Gunvor’s started on the candy catalog.
Gunvor’s found a ballpoint pen.
Gunvor sets checkmarks by candy.
The sunglasses shield Minna from Gunvor.
Minna passes Gunvor.
Minna’s set a course for the stern.
Minna catches sight of the sea.
The Baltic lies blue and piercing.
The Leonora Christine shoves its way forward, self-confidence in its hull.
The Leonora Christine heads down the coast.
Minna slouches in a seat.
Minna hugs her backpack.
Minna oozes adrenaline.
Swedish customs opens for candy and liquor purchasers.
Swedish customs is full of retirees.
Gunvor forages.
Minna leans back.
No one heeds her anymore.
Minna’s alone and can plan her escape.
Minna’s arrived in Rønne.
Elisabeth’s gotten ahold of her.
Mom’s making plans for the weekend, but
Minna isn’t home.
Elisabeth wants to know where she is, but
Minna’s just not home.
Bornholm waits in the sunshine.
Bus #5 swoops across the island.
Minna’s looking forward to seeing the landscape again.
Minna’s quickly disappointed.
Bornholm had more cliffs in her memory.
Bornholm was exotic, Swedish.
Bornholm seems abandoned now.
The bus stop spots are dusty.
The butcher’s closed.
The baker, the dairy, the school.
Bjarne’s tanning salon has set up shop in the supermarket.
Bjarne’s tanning salon browns the serfs.
Bjarne’s tanning salon turns little girls into reality stars.
Bjarne makes a mint on the villages’ decline.
The provinces assuage grief with porn.
The houses are cheap.
The houses have signs in their windows.
The houses are OPEN, OPEN, OPEN.
Most folks have fled.
Randiness remains.
Minna can see that a country’s about to disappear.
Minna can see that the tracks point over the cliff edge.
Minna feels like a slum tourist.
That wasn’t the idea behind my holiday, thinks Minna.
Minna regards a shelter in Østerlars.
The round church has decamped.
The round church has taken a room in Copenhagen.
Grief is latent in Minna.
Grief seizes its chance.
Minna gets moisture in her eyes.
Minna wipes the moisture away.
Minna wants to find a rock in the sea.
Minna wants to go out to the rock and sit.
Bergman will join her, and a thermos of coffee.
The cliffs begin someplace.
Minna googled Svaneke.
Minna saw the cliffs on the web.
The idyll will take over sooner or later.
Minna glances down in her backpack.
The cell phone sits down there.
Elisabeth’s name throbs like an irate artery.
Minna shuts the pack.
Minna can see a large field of grain.
Minna can see a steep slope.
Bus #5 drives through the grain.
The sea appears at the foot of the hill.
The Baltic doubles over, vast and wet.
Bus #5 is headed toward Listed, and now it happens.
Bornholm opens up.
Bornholm looks like itself in the pictures.
The smokehouse has a flame under the herring.
Troll figurines have appeared in the windows.
The cliffs fall crumbling into the water.
The sea is blue-black, with swans in it.
The bus winds through charming houses.
The bus holds for a school camp.
The bus holds for another school camp.
The bus holds for a flock of retirees.
The bus swings gently down the coast and into Svaneke.
Minna presses the STOP button.
The bus stops by the hard-candy store.
Minna struggles with her wheeled suitcase, and then she’s standing there.
Minna stands there and is reminded of the Old Town in Aarhus.
Minna’s reminded of the trips to Ballehage Beach.
Minna remembers her toes on the pier.
Minna with webbed feet.
Minna with piano fingers.
Minna with song in her throat.
Minna with a future before her, but
Elisabeth rings loudly in the pack.
Elisabeth’s on Minna’s trail.
Minna refuses to yield.
Minna fumbles in her pocket for the address.
Minna’s going to live in a room with a tea kitchen.
The room has a view over the harbor.
The landlady’s a friend of a friend.
Minna is not hoping that the landlady’s gregarious.
Minna wants to be alone in the Baltic.
Minna stands quietly on the square.
Minna sees people everywhere.
The people are speaking Copenhagen dialect.
The people are looking for a ceramist.
Minna stands in the people’s way.
Minna must make way.
Minna wheels her suitcase forward and back.
Minna’s in the midst of a transport tsunami.
The lodgings in this case are not lacking.
Half-timbering goes with everything.
The foundation is Bornholm granite.<
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The room has a table, sofa, and bed.
The room isn’t missing a thing, au contraire.
The room has latticed windows with geraniums.
Minna’s rubbed the scented leaves between her fingers.
Minna’s said hello to the landlady.
The landlady was in her midforties.
The landlady bore the mark of tourism.
Minna said that she had to quote work during her stay.
Minna’s used that trick before.
People with projects are left in peace.
Minna has one end of the house.
The door between Minna and the landlady is locked.
Nobody’ll come barging in, the landlady assured her.
That’s great, and yet it isn’t anyway.
The landlady’s got a dog.
The dog bays.
The dog’s bayed ever since the landlady left to do her shopping.
Minna sees the dog before her:
The dog’s muzzle pointed skyward.
The dog’s lower lip pushed forward.
The dog’s eyes squinting ceilingward.
The dog doesn’t want to be alone.
Minna’s just on the other side of the landlady’s locked door.
The dog can hear Minna.
The dog doesn’t understand that Minna can’t rescue it.
Minna’s hushed the dog through the keyhole.
Minna’s acted as if she’s gone to the grocery store.
The dog isn’t fooled by cheap tricks.
The dog has nothing to do but complain about the program.
Minna puts her earplugs into action.
Minna sits in a soundproof bubble.
Minna can hear her breathing in the bubble.
Minna’s lungs puff quietly.
Minna’s pulse vibrates.
Minna closes her eyes and listens.
The ocean buzzes in Minna’s veins.
The ocean calls from Minna’s interior.
The ocean’s outside the window, but
The ocean’s inside Minna too.
Minna sits with the sea inside.
Minna ought to go for a walk, she knows.
Svaneke awaits outside and lovely.
People circle like good-natured sharks.
Minna should walk past them and out to a cliff, but
Minna’s deaf and listens.
Minna’s interior is a rehash of memories.
Minna paddles around in the old days.
Minna feels her body shifting.
Minna’s senses are returning.
Hands down through the sand.
Hands up toward the gulls.
Dad’s hand and Minna’s.
The blue delta of Dad’s hand.
The sea rises in Minna.
The sea finds fissures in Minna.
Minna’s leaky.
Minna opens her eyes and blinks.
The sea trickles slowly.
The sea reaches land.
The beads of gravel rattle.
Minna blows her nose.
Minna should find herself a cliff.
Minna and Bergman should walk out onto the cliff and sit.
Minna shouldn’t do anything else.
Minna feels like Gunvor’s peeping in the window.
The geraniums block the inward view.
Bornholm’s relatively large.
The likelihood’s small, but
Minna peeks out from behind a plant.
Svaneke Harbor rocks with boats.
The tourists balance glass plates.
The tourists turn the corner in sensible shoes.
The tourists position themselves willingly in line.
The cliffs are out there.
The cliffs are warm from the day’s sun.
Minna runs a hand across her face.
Minna opens her backpack.
Bergman’s lying down there.
Dread makes the dreaded real, he repeats.
Minna nods.
Minna closes her eyes.
Minna whispers out into the lodgings: Now the dog howls no more.
The dog’s done with playing forsaken.
The dog’s shut its mouth.
The dog lies in its basket.
The dog begs for its ball.
The dog has nothing more to say about its situation.
Minna removes the earplug on the right side.
Minna listens with her head cocked.
The dog howls.
The dog howls skyward.
Minna’s crawled out as far as she can go.
Minna sits on the blanket she brought.
The granite drills up gently into her buttock.
The gulls have set up camp on a couple cliffs farther out.
Christiansø is a seed on the horizon.
Christiansø beckons with its outpost nature.
Minna doesn’t want to be any farther out now.
Minna just wants to sit here.
Minna wants to drink her coffee with Bergman.
The waves smack gently against the cliff.
The world smells of seaweed.
Minna sits and is doing fine.
Minna comes to think of Vagn.
Minna took a first-aid course of Vagn’s.
Minna’s never rescued anyone, but
Vagn knew all about hurt people.
Vagn said, Hold their hand!
Vagn said, Bodily contact helps the injured!
Vagn said, Caresses and calm speech’ll pass the time.
The ambulance’ll get there sooner or later.
A human being could use another human in the meantime.
A small hand is enough!
Minna looks around her circle of acquaintances.
The circle of acquaintances can’t get a hand through the shield.
The circle of acquaintances can’t get skin on skin.
Minna considers her hand.
Minna doesn’t need to play pious.
Minna’s hand has withdrawn from the struggle.
Minna’s hand hasn’t touched anyone since Lars.
Lars was so real under the duvet.
Lars was so gentle down there.
Lars dared in the dark, but
The light demands trend awareness.
Minna’s not trendy.
Minna’s soft and warm every day.
The everyday doesn’t cut it.
Minna takes her hand from the sea and sticks it in her mouth.
The sea tastes good.
The lighthouse towers behind her.
Årsdale nestles to the south.
Christiansø is Denmark’s remotest enclave.
This rock’s a rehearsal space, thinks Minna.
The gulls are the only ones present.
Minna can make noise the way she wishes.
Minna feels something slipping far below.
Minna’s belly grows in capacity.
The lungs become bellows.
The throat a swan’s.
The voice full of rust.
Minna’s needed rehearsal space, but
Bornholm’s big.
Bornholm has no objection if Minna warbles a trill.
The song has light, Minna sings.
Minna doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but it persists.
The song has warmth, she sings.
Minna recalls the folk high school now.
The song has eternity.
Minna thinks it’s a strange song.
Minna sings the song anyway.
Minna’s voice rises plumb upward.
The voice is like a beanpole.
Minna can climb it.
Minna can reach the stars.
Minna can reach the giant, the golden eggs, the empyrean.
Minna’s good at climbing, but then she dives.
It does the voice good to plunge headlong.
The voice breaks the surface of the sea.
The voice continues tow
ard the bottom.
The sea grass sways and tickles.
The marine fauna stands still and listens.
The voice is alone with itself and the wet.
Minna closes her eyes and she sings,
The song unites as it fades.
That’s not enough for Minna.
Minna gives the song a last burst.
Minna’s heart lifts.
The gulls rise.
The wings flutter.
The wings applaud and applaud.
Minna opens her eyes, and there stands an angler.
The angler stands on the rock ten yards away.
The angler looks at Minna.
The angler creaks in his rubber boots.
The angler calls out,
The fish are getting spooked.
Minna blushes: I thought I was alone.
A kayaker instantly paddles past.
Another kayaker, and yet another.
The kayakers paddle past like geese in a village pond.
The angler points somewhere behind Minna.
Minna turns around.
The evening sun is blinding, but there sit a man and a woman.
The man and woman wave with their cigarettes.
The woman says it sounded lovely.
Minna repeats that she thought she was alone.
The woman and the man often sit by the lighthouse in the evening.
The view of Christiansø, says the man.
The view of the bathers, says the woman.
The woman points at a springboard a little ways off.
People are leaping from the springboard down among the cliffs.
Campground tents sprout up among the brush.
Minna doesn’t want to know anything else, but
The couple’s from Østerbro in Copenhagen.
The couple could stay on Bornholm forever.
The woman pinches the man on the thigh.
The man pinches the woman on the thigh.
The man has large lips.
The woman isn’t wearing a bra.
Minna wishes it weren’t embarrassing to leave.
Bergman smiles at her from down on the granite.
Bergman declares that she’s never been lovelier, but
Bergman would lie worse than a horse runs if his prick were at risk.
Flight is a sign of weakness, she whispers.
Silence descends.
Silence is no longer a balm for the soul.
Silence is a social defect.
Minna feels the need to converse a bit.
Minna asks whether the couple has a cottage.
The woman says the cottage belongs to her husband.
The husband in question isn’t along on holiday.
The man with the large lips on the other hand is along for the whole trip.
The man asks Minna where she’s from.
Minna doesn’t know what to say.
Minna has more of an impulse to cry.
Aarhus—, says Minna.