Splintered Viking Boat Song
this is not
about Ragnar, or shot
in blue celluloid (max hyperised gore)
woad doesn’t come into it
or Yorkshire graveyards / horizontal corpses
an invocation sung in Kernewek
for fishermen, misses
its point (Poseidon’s prong drips blood /
widows weep salt in paintings)
it’s not
the dirge of left-hand piano drills
(Volga’s men rolling over
calloused palms, roll over)
this is
driven song / bitumen river
solitary immigrant HOG
lantern skew / gust slap / siren eucalypt
keening for 382 fissured kilometres
1800cc / vertical
unriven
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