Two islands

Round English vowels
stuck to the ceilings of mouths.
Forgotten and remembered;
intermittently taken hostage 
by the rise and fall
of Denmark
sliding down steamy kitchen tiles.
Little Denmark ran between the rooms.
Tiny fists stuffed with crisps and
things.
A Scandinavian jumper clinging
to angular Scandinavian collar bones.
A neighbourly quiet
hanging between our two islands.
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