Thursday, 11 February 2016
‘Tied like a cur, damp-breath, from the egg
you whipped my tongue to whimper.
And still I stand and face you, chained to corners
and choked by diamond metal. What to do
when, baleful days, my skin flattens
onto bone and muscles work and harden?
Every hour I walk and walk my tether.
Oh yes, you need to tame me, flophead,
But I will never yield to your fat will,
My fate is to destroy in hot adventure
and your flab-hands can reach but know that soonest
they will burn!.
When your Hero came
to fetch me out, human, no doubt you thought
my training would be easy. Here I stand
and baleful wait. Bring on your taming, sweet-blood.
I long for pain and battle. To drink. Break me? Pah!
You have no skill, no will, no strategy!
I pace, I wait. Know that your unbending need
for me to yield will lead you to a longing
of your death. There is no key. Remember,
beyond blinking eyes, damp as dawn,
I tell you truth. There is no mercy in my stringy heart’