Odin wasn’t alone when he hung on the charnel tree,
the birth canal ash, the ley line branch shafts
on that windy hill over Mimir’s well, Nidhog venom,
Ratatosk chitter, no – I was there with my net,
for it is I that first fished the stars from song
and shaped Algiz and Uruz out of shadowscapes, the
Alfather was parched and wailing, eye socket ichor.
I ate his iris and swallowed it down as my price
Nerthus, Jord, Rind – I am Mother and Whore to Aesir
Daughter, Sister, Volva, Slave, Shieldmaiden, Valkyrie
I am Queen of Jotnar and Mistress of Vanir, I am All
and the Abyss, both at once – I took the runes from my
net like Aslaug’s drapery with splinters, carved the
Elder Furthark on his tongue one by one until he cried
out Stop, Stop, it is too much, too fast, an orgasmic
destruction, death and wet fire and awesome dread-life
it was a sacrifice of Gangleri to Grimnir, also a tithe
to the Prophetess of Ragnarok, I spoke of the fates of
the Nine Worlds forged from ice and flame, he heard rain
and leaf shudders, my body was wood, my eyes burls, my
dancing fingers twigs – every Tree a Woman, every Woman
proud as a Tree, he lay with me nine nights, I traded
his blood for my sap, I his gallows, coffin, and womb
and though he thought he was alone, Odin knew he was
in the Presence of the Neolithic Venus man worshipped
I am what the mead the gods pour out flows to, I have
no name but the cry of Jormungand and Fenrir’s drip drip
blood, Hela tends my roots, Heimdall my trunk, Freyja
my leaves, and all the Gods live within me, me, Tree.