A Selection of Poems

Blue

The city heaves its chest
inhales–exhales
through chimneys
and rusty exhaust pipes

Cars, motorbikes, taxis, buses
fill in the city’s coloring-book
humming the song of the paycheck
of food and shelter

A gray haze
colors outside the lines
wrapping the skyscrapers in a forged sky
paintbrush dipped in dirty water

His brow in the clouds
the child squints like an old man
looking up at mama
What color is heaven?

She shakes the bottled water
holding it up to the gutter
–inverted brown water–
Like this

–Lene Fogelberg, Jakarta, 2015

Commands

Around me
hard and heavy
sharp and pointy objects
–skyscrapers
bridges
vehicles for speed
glass, metal, concrete–
everything loud, sure, articulate
generals in command:
Attention!

Inside me
soft and light
shapeless, tender words
–sky letters
passing
road signs in lightyears
galaxies and stars–
coming gently, calmly, quietly
tapping inside my chest:
At ease

–Lene Fogelberg, Kuala Lumpur, 2016

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

Under a Kayu Abu Tree in Bali

I sense a language
in leaves turned to the sun
their thin bodies eyeless, mouthless, armless
singing
a chorus in green-Dur

I hear the music
lifting my face to the sky
eyes closed, silent, still
listening
to the joys and pains of growing

I feel the words
dancing in light and shadow
on my eyelids, my lips, my plains of skin
burning
to be uttered

I carry the signature
written in my soul
invisible, inaudible, untouchable
longing
for the artist

I sense a language
in my frail bones of dust
my blindness, my silence, my stillness
whispering:
not dust, but star dust

–Lene Fogelberg, 2015

Monsoon

I wake up to the rain

tapping on roofs
streaming down pipes
pooling on asphalt
running along concrete

And then a child
turns up her face
stretches out her tongue
raindrops dancing on her head

–Lene Fogelberg, 2017

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