The sharp-toothed skirmisher of January past

passes its knives by her cheeks;

the hillside heralds its shredded brown visage,

winter’s wolf howls the bitter conquest of the moors.

The season of concealing crowns and faces,

of cautious feet across the maze of wilted souls

to reach the lone tree, grey lightning petrified in time.

Frozen into the bark are age and time.

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Do you love me now?

After I’ve gone to such lengths to straighten out

the kinks and fill in the chinks in my armour.

I try to smile and look respectable,

though it’s my reputation on the line and not yours,

and here the line is curved and squiggly.

It’s not just god, faith and honour anymore,

though I’m willing to try, even if the cost is terrible.

Do you love me now?

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I said, my love, I’ve paid my dues,

the ferryman awaits,

though he does not wait for you.

We sat in silence as he guided his ship,

slicing through the slick ink of the Styx.

He helped me onto the dock with one

withered, sympathetic arm.

The dog and its three heads turned

to me, watching pensively.

They gave a yip; and beside the fallen tree,

a lone, bent-backed man pu...

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You and I met at the most unfortunate time:

Shrieks of bodies being torn apart

Filled my ears as I looked into your eyes - 

Earthy hazel, a grounding, on which I could rely.

Hell was bearing down on us, and yet I

Did not cry; we emerged, intact, but apart,

And for the moment, swallowed the lie.

Years of companionship spent in uniform stride

Into wanton ruin where only ...

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Dear Sigyn,

you fool.

We both know he doesn’t love you.

Catching the venom meant for his eye,

silent even though he should cry

out in fury at your meddling.

Dear Sigyn,

you fool.

Even the serpent laughs at you.

I’d think your body was through

even if your heart was still into

an idiot’s errand that no one would rue.

Dear Sigyn,

you fool.

The end ...

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