Steve Scholey’s early fascination with rocks, preferably with shiny bits in them, led him into close encounters with trolls in Sweden and with leopards, landmines and AK47s in Zimbabwe. Having discarded his geological hammer in favour of a pen, Steve has featured in various publications and competitions and is currently working on his second and third collections simultaneously. Steve may or may not be an un-disorganiser of the Winchester poetry fringe.
Onnellisuus on aika hiihdellä
koirasi sivulla luonnossa
Happiness is time to ski at the side
of your dog in the wild. So it was
told, as soon as you are coming to
the rental cabin near the forest herd
for a few days hiihtoloma with your
homedog in early spring, first take it
in the smaller log cabin, keep it held;
especially this kind day today, worst
possible weather, when porot can
not stand to run, go deep to their
legs through the sun-soft drifts – if a
dog escaped it would unfold
disaster. But that is not the thought
you held.
In the mirror, it becomes clear you
let your dog run wild to chase down
porot, reindeer: kelkkajäljet across
the melting pond, a helter-skelter
trail of dung, of clots of cream and
pale grey fur, of garnet smears; at
its far end, splay-legged, shock-
faced and pulsing from ripped chest
a glistening carnal pool, the deer.
See where he collapsed, one antler
gouged the ice. Two placed shots –
his cares erased.
steve scholey
Based on a news story in a Finnish paper,
with thanks to Nina for advice on translations
