Saturday, July 02, 2011

I would—God help me—have killed him on the spot

Jennifer's legs. Clifton Beach, June 2011.

I really really REALLY love this poem. It captures pretty much perfectly my feelings. I'd like to think that in the heart of all men in love lurks a Viking berserker...

Your Hair of Snakes and Flowers, Håkan Sandell Hakan Sandell

When I saw one of those men touch your hair,
I heard for the first time in many a year
the ancient battle trumpets and I saw
the banners of an army winding off to war
and felt that blind power urging me to knock
him out with one punch, send him tumbling to the floor.
If nobody had held me back, stopped me,
I would—God help me—have killed him on the spot,
stomped out his blood, and spit in it. I'm sorry,
but you must be aware your winding hair
is different now, a hornets' nest, a snakes' lair!
Yes, like a ball of snakes in a flower basket, dear.


Roddy said...

I don't know. I think I would have made a great Viking berserker.
The negative side to killing someone on the spot is that you spend the rest of your days incarcerated and having lost the one thing you killed for.

Anonymous said...

Great poem. Also a great selection of shells you have to choose from while beachcombing!

Roddy said...

Here's a question for you. Have the kids been drilling holes in the shells ready for you to string?
Notice the holey little critters in the shot.

Kris said...

Roddy, the crabs do it for use.

Llandudno, there's no shortage on this beach.

Roddy said...

I guess it is one way of getting to the tender bits.