Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, April 5, 2018

THIS FERTILE WORLD

Begonia blossoms,
butterflies at dusk,

eggs inside of Armadillos—
this is a fertile world

filled with premonitions
and civil wars.

Let’s pit lovers against poachers
to try to keep it safe—

and then go on watching
the memories we haven’t had yet

from underneath flimsy umbrellas
in a century of rain.

And the rooster…we mustn’t forget
to set it free

before the gamblers come
to cart it off

to the cockfight.
All we need is

an ingot’s worth
of imagination

and some parchment
to translate

nocturnal sweats
into couplets of grace

penned with the poison
from a scorpion’s tail.

Time is nothing more than
learning to foxtrot in iron shoes.

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