Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2019  Vol. 18 No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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translation from Swedish by Patty Crane

The Black Mountains

Around the next curve the bus emerged from the mountain’s cold shadow,
turned its nose into the sun and crawled uphill roaring.
We were crammed on the bus. The dictator’s bust was also there,
wrapped in newspaper. A bottle was passed from mouth to mouth.
Death’s birthmark grew at a different speed in everyone.
High in the mountains, the blue sea caught up with the sky.  

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