I flex the muscles in my left arm,
(being left-handed it’s more precious
than the right one – but only just so)
Move and stretch fingers.
To give one arm for recognition by
the department of culture, which can
give me a yearly sum of money to
enable me to write about the glory
of social democracy and freedom
of choice (tell that to the poor)
I toil in the shadow of a big boulder
and think that a shaft of light will
erase thoughts and blinding me from
seeing a new horizon! But the lure of
a handout is always there, stronger
than the craving for a bottle of wine.
What about my right arm? It’s safe
Since I got a letter from the department
Of goodies, telling me that my writing
is not relevant to Nordic culture and
language.