Beate Sigriddaughter

She walks in beauty, yearns
in peace, grows lilacs and roses,
sometimes picks forget-me-nots
down by the river, and knows
that deer can sound like women
talking, but wants to keep this
a secret from hunters.

She lives alone, loves solitude.
Her thick white hair hangs
down to her waist. One day
her window is broken. There
wasn´t much to steal. Her laptop
is gone, her eyes ache.

Another woman recommends a gun.
"Here, hold mine, see how it feels."
She doesn´t believe in guns.
She doesn´t even believe in high heels.
Her eyebrows contract.
She hesitates.