Jan Hansen Poet Blank verse

Two Islands and Dynamite

two islands and dynamite 
 
There are two islands in the stream, one is big  
and called the new island the other is small and  
called the old island, the pair is linked to a bridge. 
I crossed the bond to see my girlfriend, who lived 
on the old island, in a shack, all houses were shacks 
the fishermen lived there in suitable poverty. 
I knocked on the door that cracked, letting out 
a light which was good, the steps to the house were 
made off rough unfriendly stones. 
Her mother opened I didn’t like her smelling of beer 
she had three teeth left and spoke like a whistle. 
She hated me for being a cook at a tourist hotel  
work she thought was for skulkers men with soft 
hands incapable to do a proper job, like fishing 
mackerel for a living. 
She has gone with her new boyfriend on his boat 
he is a skipper, to Denmark, and with that,  
she slammed the door shut. 
On the news, a bridge crossing Crimea to Russia 
has been blown up; when I crossed the bridge to get 
to the new island, I thought of doing something  
in that vein, but having no knowledge of dynamite  
I let it pass.

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