I chase the Alfather’s breath in the Northern Lights
my spine is snow, downy elkskin and leather my dressings
the wolves throng round me and wreathe me in ice fractals
wily Odin has become the constellations, god of blizzards
flanked by Geri and Freki in Niflheim’s outer boundaries
splashes of neon gold and ghost green and ectoplasm blue
make up the string of runes in the sky, veil of Frigga –
to be parted by the Wanderer only, and as I gaze into his
hollow eye, I know I stare down Mimir’s well, drowning in
tundra and subzero ordeals, my bones are brittle, I become
nothing but our thirst for knowledge, screaming Ansuz, air,
casting galdr up to the heavens and going berserk for wisdom
the wolves are with me, are me, I am teeth and fangs gnashing
I could slit the wrists of the Milky Way and drink down Ymir
I scream in ecstasy and terror as the rune takes hold, molds
a girl becoming gift of the gods, Odin blinks worlds: Ragnarok.