Sunday, 5 November 2017

The Ragnarokesby Venus

for Dean

There are stairs
Where blue skin
Is washed in flakes from the face
And all that can be heard is a hopping
Long legs and salt for the toad

Falling fire leaps up
From the sudden grey lakes
Steel tumuli runestones
Scored with curses

A broken stone fist clutches hidden seeds
Eyes rise white from the ground
Gripped by ash roots

And I am the whistling of horse omens

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