I’m unnerved.

A fleshy-faced Vikinglocks his penetratingeyes with mine.Porcine jowls frameno-nonsense lipsthat silently whisper:winter is no joke.Wrapped loosely in blackmatted animal pelts,his rotund, naked bodyripens in my nostrils.Between thick fingers and thumba smoking branch transformsinto a soldier’s gun.

I’m afraid.

I remember last night:there must have beenten or more of uswho heard him sayhe had shot someone,asked me, if I had evershot someone.

His riveting gaze assures mehe is not as harsh or coldas the cloak of darkness that lays heavily over him.A hint of a chuckle, a gleam.

I laugh.

Norwegianw i n t e r

Poem in response to the paintingWinter: Man with a Burning Branch, 1993

by Odd Nerdrum (Norwegian, b. 1944)while remembering the evening

before with Marc and his students