Shield Mate
Prostrate upon a crooked bier of need
you writhe combustible.
I will not lie with you and burn.
I am not kindling to be gathered and so used.
Bring the strength of iron to your mast
stride beside me do not lean.
A shadow falls and by it
we will time our rise,
speak to me of Valkyries.
Words you bring,
and words but fill an empty air,
when deeds of valor show on scar-crossed skin
what need have I for frail
and harmless things?
Build me a ship stout, lapped board
a dragon-headed fright,
leave off the bruised and battered colors
of violet eve’s and blackened offerings.
Across the bitter seas of salt
a bloody tide abides, all men must end
but few stride, shield mate at their back.
Touch Odin’s hem and to Valhalla ride
I am insane it is true, but in truth
what does sanity breed
but insane cries?
*Dedicated to Drake E.
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