I should have lost my eye, should be blind in the right. I'd trade it to that fiery fountain, for wisdom and hope. Thought and Memory are drifting in and out of my house right now, and I'll call the third one Sleipnir. I'm pedestrian enough for eight legs, that's for sure. And all the rest, all the lost sleep and tears and casting my own weird shadows in the corner of my untaken unbroken eye. I know so many valkyries at this point-I'd be slain, and chosen. My own Dick Cheney, my own psychopomp.
No comments:
Post a Comment