Every landscape dangling
in its own bubble
wind of transparent leaves
a sky of glass
holding buildings, mountains, people together
in one big chunk
hygge facing inwards
the landscape inwards
like Christmas decorations arrived too soon
with no idea what to do with themselves
we are on the outside queuing up for hours
applying for visa, forms and documentation
shake the landscape in your hand and hope for snow
but no we do not play that way
we pretend instead that the landscapes are ornamental
in their bubbles
that the tiny people on the inside
are shut off from the world away from the world
that’s all we can do against their unapproachability
no vaccine
no after-hygge lotion removes
shattered glass from the skin
there we are swaying in the wind
so kick-you-in-the-crotch adorable
when everything sparkles and withers beserk
—