Night Abducts Poem by Bengt O Björklund

Dire deeds wring sweaty hands
where another man just would say:
It costs to harbour volatile spirits
under capricious skin!
Flee! Like the dark fire
flies in cold December.

Night abducts all that is fuzzy with frenzy,
the black cat carries mist in her sleeps.

The math and old content
beds with the very best of our age,
cheered on by the magnetic poles,
distantly licked by eyes of looking.

Tonight all content is external,
all drives run with dancing keys.

The speed of the thermometer
is certainly of no avail
to those who no longer die,
nor aspire for free air.