A POEM OF INZELADUN
BY MARK VAN DYK

Let me dine upon sinew and marrow
Let the red thirst for blood not be quenched.
Stack the skulls of my foes
Like trophies upon my barrow.

My lust is a lust of rage
Fever pitched, let me sink, gorge, fight
Kill and tear to pieces
The monuments of my age.

What are dreams of tomorrow for?
Give me the hot thrust and the quickening
The meat and the fervor
I claim to know nothing more.

Do not lay me to rest dear friends
Scatter my bones to the four corners,
Wrap my intestines around a tree, drive spikes into my eyes
It's with the wolves I'll make my amends.

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