view of beowulf from a rainy sunday

in cases of sin there are hourly bells and

if we bleed, there are banks for that.

so we try for a little weightlessness,

a brief thinning of the blood -

fast shots or slow, we can be that hero.

here is something to battle

gloriously, towers to invade

with spikes to tear our clothes,

homes to raid in the fight for strife

and a hero’s life, with a little bit of villain

and blackened memories to fill in

with war stories as we peruse our silly bruises.

what the tongues can fix they try -

we stay far away from salt,

compare our wounds and watch the

rain we ran through, reading for reality.

and later the flatness will slip, and tip

us onto cold streets to light fires

and fight them, and we’ll survive.