‘July, Oslo’ by David Toms

Photo: Leif Riksheim

It was so hot then
water was sprinkled on
the graves in Ris kirkegård

we thought about standing under
the spray to cool off
instead we sought the shade of
Vigeland’s mausoleum

Inside, waiting for our eyes to adjust
to the lack of light
bowing beneath his ashes
hearing our breaths echo
in this monument to self regard

the painted bodies of the damned
scaled the walls and idiot I
dropped my keys
the clang rang
until the end of time

From issue #9.5: spring/summer 2020

About the Author
David Toms lives and works in Oslo, Norway. His most recent collection is Northly from Turas Press. Recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Stinging Fly and Channel.