Loki the Storyteller

He is a witch-pyre inferno, crackling green flames,
rich as loam, feels like home, his skin like sage,
god of outcasts and wanderers, home in the stars,
following Milky Way trails to a harbor in fjords,
Loki is a father foremost, and a jester by day,
but by night he’s a storyteller, silver and jade,
scar mouth, he lights up the hall with his songs
and each of us feels at ease, at peace, in his arms
raconteur cloak spun of woman’s beard, crows, alms.


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