Frey the infant tears out another page of a small encyclopedia
I stroke his head in the morning darkness
face down he gets up by his arms
catches The Rainbow by Lawrence trembling with eagerness he brings it to
his softly licking mouth
he smiles at my dance as I carry him
ah! I utter
backwards over my shoulder he answers ah!
ah! I continue
with a laugh he replies ah!
Frey is leaving his kiss mark on pages of my notebook
the little idol of lust
I stroke his cheek
carry him on my shoulders
being his tool
Mikael Ejdemyr
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/notes-on-my-son-frey-who-can-t-walk-yet/
