These words worked the long day Harold
died,
when Norman French swept up the slope of
Senlac Hill
and English grammar broke and bled into the
dusk.
Harold rotted in his unmarked grave,
but the tattered remnants of his word hoard
colonised the globe. Linguistic
vertigo:
fall and find yourself, there in the shield
wall,
beating battle-axe
on war-board, chanting
“Out! Out! Out!” as the chain-mailed tide,
grey as the Channel, flows up the hill.
(originally published in Lady Godiva and Me, This version printed in Rough Spun to Close Weave.)
(And all the words in the first line are found in Old English)
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