Hedgehog, Hamnavoe Poem by Jen Hadfield
Hedgehog, Hamnavoe
Flinching in my hands
this soiled and studded but good heart,
which stippling my cupped palms, breathes -
a kidney flinching on a hot griddle,
or very small Hell's Angel, peeled from the verge
of a sweet, slurred morning.
Drunk, I coddle it like a crystal ball,
hellbent the realistic mysteries
should amount to more than guesswork
and fleas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/17/2024 8:09:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
