motvind

Dag Máthenjárga har sendt meg et nytt dikt, inspirert av de tre durkdrevne falkene som nå sitter i forhandlinger. Jeg har ikke trent meg opp til å tegne denne trioen, men lover å legge inn en illustrasjon etterhvert. Foretrekker egentlig fyldigere modeller.

The sweet kill

how bold they came the falconers
to find me hooded, waiting here
they never could control my flight
my true intentions, for the fight

why should I hunt and kill for them
a slave and servant, of their whim
at the whistle of their last command
I spread my wings, from their hand

eyes unblinking and talons sharp
poised and aimed, at their hearts
the leash they used to keep me tied
around their neck, when they died