Hacked from an alphabet,

words watch themselves being dragged

broken-legged

over war-torn vellum.

 

His prime now savaged

by the Sword of Orl Tyme,

the bitter skald depletes the seeds of Eden.

 

Withered fingers bruise upon a page

inked venomous

with echoes of a breath

hiss-thin                                                                                  

as a whisper in the windblown sky.

 

Pathetic panegyric;

his desiccated letters

hang flaccid,

all exhausted,

from a scribe grown dry.

                                                                                                             

Cut-throat kennings weep,

wintering to rust,    

as rune-roar muffles

to a pale hush-hush;

as rune-roar

muffles

to a

pale

 

hush-hu…