Poem: “Sigyn, Sweetheart” and author’s notes

Sigyn, Sweetheart

Hail Sigyn, sweetheart,
stance amidst the flood,
hair trailing on mottled stone.
The weary bow bending, sagging,
but refusing
to drop,
drip
after
drip
after drip.

Sigyn, unceasing,
you are the promise we keep.
The daughter who holds a flat palm, wall palm,
to the father.
The mother
with twin on each breast,
and water in her eyes
that knows the heft of ice,
the set of ice,
though melted
and warm.

Sigyn, steadfast,
soft belly, ferocious song,
may you ever find victory
in your absolute will.

(Bat Collazo, 2018)

Poem: “How Loki Steals His Silvertongue” and author’s notes

How Loki Steals His Silvertongue

“I’m not your baby bird,” Lopt says,
laps the mead, skáldskapar,
from Bolverk’s tongue
like a snake,
like the serpent that will spit… not yet.
“Unless you want me to be,” laughs, lapping, lascivious,
sharp teeth, slick mouth. “Sick fuck.”

“I’m in good company.”

The Old Wolf’s mouth pours,
but
somewhere in the flow of verse,
thoughts fly far to the flow of Ván.

(Bat Collazo, 2018)