AT THE GATE Poem by Henrik Nordbrandt

1.
In the dream
at the gate to your grave
you stopped me
with the same words
I had spoken in a dream
where I died before you

so now I can no longer dream.


2.
Rusty, and on squeaky hinges
all the gates I have ever
seen, heard, or described
closed one by one
under a grey sky.

That is all there was
in my mind, earth.


3.
What can I say about the world
in which your ashes sit in an urn
other than that?


4.
On every trip you stay ahead of me.
On platforms I see your footprints in fresh snow.
When the train starts to move
you jump out of the back carriage

to reach the next station ahead of me.


5.
Outside the small towns with their sleepy street lights:
stadiums bright as capitols.

The lights glinted off your glasses.

Where else should you look for the ring
which, the night the power went out,
rolled under the bed and was gone?


6.
"I miss you, too"
were my last words
on the telephone
when you said you missed me.
I miss you too, Forever!


7.
You are gone.

Three words. And not one
of them
exists now in any

other context.