Elegy

Elegy

Chest gets sore then lung

          flops out sliding

on the floor like whales

     blubbering redness

over this slate darkened

     anew by our mess

of monks, blood, and ale.

     Don't you do it, Hel!

Don't you stop my heart

     nor make me skrelly

then turn me to jelly!

     Slowly, rather, numb

me, please, more dumb

     than by my own hand.

Though not with con

     traband, you under

     stand! Don't grab me

by the jerkin and shake,

shake, shake! Too many

     sounds to undertake:

"That was no murder."

That was your mother?

"She's not complaining."

She's not complaining.

Don't you do it, Hel!

Don't you stop my heart

     nor make me skrelly

then turn me to jelly!

Lord of bread led to all

     we carry aboard 

then torch his hall

with one who kneads

     tied to his hip.

 

Sige calls to our foes.

Sige calls for my stræl.

Sige calls for my bow.

Sige calls for Hel.

Stand! Don't grab me

     by my sword hand

to shake! Too many

sounds to undertake:

"All is mind, heart, courage!"

The all is brains and hearts.

"All is kwelling, not turnips."

The all is rings and beag.

Sige calls us to stow.

Sige calls us to row.

Sige calls us to row.

Sige calls for Hel:

"Don't you do it, Hel!

Don't you stop my heart

     nor make me skrelly

then turn me to jelly!"

Side to side floating, we

dark and white, cold,

cold.

     Slowly, rather, numb

us, please, more dumb

     than by our hands.

"Sige, the rocks, Sige!"

Sige, the whales, Sige.

"Sige, the rocks, Sige!"

Whales, Sige, whales.

That swell, our barrow,

     and the next, the next,

till we sink to Hel beneath 

     that swell, or the next,

     the next.

[anti-heroic]