sacrifice yourself to your self
that ruthless cabal
and of course you’ll call it
wisdom won’t you
with birds of slaughter
muttering into your ears
father of frenzy and panic
poetry and the unspeakable
i saw your red eye
glimmering through the night
and a sudden fear
floated up like ice
what’s changed since the death
of your death cult
wolves and bears have dwindled
into plush toys
doom is called
by new names
your day has worn down
to a barren hump
***
Note: I stole the title from author Nancy Marie Brown’s excellent blog about Iceland and Old Norse-related things.