olive to oak-leaf, vineyards to black firs,
darkened in a colder wood,
their shadows like a winter’s sun
Kalkriese hill: the master of horse
subtracted a hand on the heather field,
ingenieur in his broad hat
eye for the host of ravens,
of thunder where the sky-father
lightened, the fenborn spinning of love.
and sun that fingered over
gear and slingshot, sandal studs
lance heads, never slowed
wolves coursing at their heels.
numina, carts and charioteers,
a name from the laurel-hung south
this tribal company? The old reaper
his sheaves, they recognized him
translation, by any name
blood-kenned and darkly kinned
and axes, the waiting leap of fire,
silver mask left rotting in the peat,
devouring seed, stars, children, the world,
age to smile and cut us down.