Thursday, October 04, 2007


Mouse-hunter's Mistress,
Loosened you the elm's gauze-dander
for the sea-fire's snake
that the four forge-worms flame-writhed,
a green-gown given all May in one night.
The bearded foundry-elves bloted the elm's
xylem-grotto beneath the moss-falls.
The oyster's sun-drops and maiden's tears
neck-garland strung, you won, with feats
of lynx's loins of the fire dance driven
to grasp the grail made by Mimir's men.
Prides of gold-givers rise or fall, from the threads
of the sea-kidney's charmlets and baubles.
Tester of the blood-rushing bellows,
only the worthy in love may rule :
thrones hang solely from thy neck.
Or so it once was in the days of Nanna's groom.
For your flaming aunt sky-riding daily,
Hroptatyr's men will rise and fall
so Lodur's friction-fruit, fear of trees,
will not lick at heaven's toes until the end.
'Till then, you finger baubles. Countries
rise and fall through seidthings :
speak the king's luck lest he fall.


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