A Selection of Poems
In the Deep
The wind is my father
my mother is the sea
they tell me stories
of ships sailing
across the oceans
stories of harbors
I’ve never seen
stories of creatures
living in darkness
their whole lives
making a home
in the deep
where only the desperate
and brave go
where skeletons
sit in silence
loved so completely
that the flesh has melted
from their bones
–Lene Fogelberg, 2025
Noon
I remember in my teens
I stood at the window
of my childhood home
green trees
church bells ringing noon
by the town square
realizing
soon all this will be gone
a memory
me reaching for the windowsill
as if I could hold on
while the last clang
lingered in the air
–Lene Fogelberg, 2026
A Beautiful Assault
My blood thin
my thick skin
my tender scars
my breathing hard
half asleep but twice awake
–the colors needle sharp–
every moment gently drawn
from us, from us, from us, from us
My heart beating
the life out of me
the life into me
a beautiful assault
Keep beating
Keep beating
–Lene Fogelberg, 2018
Fugitives
In this illegal moment
stolen from the neck of time
–a string of precious seconds
falling between our fingers–
our promises are breaths of air
that we give each other
choking in the dark void
I can feel the galaxy twirling around us
its merciless pirouettes around itself
arms outstretched
turning
turning
the whirling dust
pulling at us
the nauseating speed of it
turning
turning
the brutal force
of its tulle skirt
our eyes watering
our hands trembling
the speed of it
the speed
But we have this moment
the galaxy turning around us
turning
turning
we have the stillness
of its unblinking eye
where your fears cling to mine
and my hopes cling to yours
a brief forever
in this infinite moment
–Lene Fogelberg, 2019
An Unfinished Poem
Don’t wash my windows
through the dirt
a truer view emerges
Let me sit on this threadbare sofa
and bleed an unfinished poem
into roses climbing all over the frayed fabric
and onto the walls
Bring me your scrambled dreams
on a cracked plate
and I will taste your
salty sorrows
Sit with me on this threadbare sofa
press your hand against my bleeding poem
and tell me we have more space on the paper
at least another line or two
another word
before
–Lene Fogelberg, 2019
Rib Cage
Sometimes
I wrap my arms
around myself
my hands
clinging to
my shoulders
trying to reach
the little girl
inside
I can’t reach her
I can’t reach her
–Lene Fogelberg, 2026
Morning Walk in Kuala Lumpur
The elevator reeks of durian
a smell as heavy as regret
and sweet as hope
the fragrant ghost of the fruit
sticking to me as I plummet
to the ground
a few steps
and I plunge into birdsong
treading sunlight into a rising beat
the bulldozer behind the fence
playing the drums
the black beetle buzzing past me
–an F sharp on wings–
the city yawning and stretching its skyscrapers
pouring car after car down its tunnels
a whiff of cigarette smoke from
just out of the corner of my eye
everything just out of sight
even the sun stroking
honey-dipped fingers across the road
the hot air blurring the lines
of palm trees swaying to the rhythm
their long necks forgetting their stiff joints
slender shadows melting into mine
the cracked cement sidewalk
unravelling under my feet
forever pulling me back
into yesterday
every step remembering the next
so that I’m walking alongside
the ghosts of my past and future selves
sticking to me
like the scent of durian
–Lene Fogelberg, 2019
At First Sight
Before any words
your gaze cut me open
heart surgery
performed in seconds
In the stillness
of my silent heart
all of my dreams
rearranged themselves
All of my fears
fell off my shoulders
pushed aside by
this one violent fear
I can’t even articulate
just an ache
a confusion in the
membranes of my cells
My body can’t remember
any moment before you
even though my brain
is sending postcards
I am not the same
changed forever
the thought filling me with
terror and euphoria
–Lene Fogelberg, 2019