Anglo-Saxon Prayer

whispers   bones whisper   buried bones whisper

hooves hammer   mud splatters whirling mists

a deer crashes   her heart   spurting blood

we tie her   tired legs   hoist

her dripping   carcass   between horses

carry her aloft   to the good Christian brothers

whispers   bones whisper   buried bones whisper

barren Matilda   flower of my heart

ensconced in your black   robe mourning

our lack   our lands

our lands to be   harvested by my cousins

hungry   for entitlement

whispers   bones whisper buried bones whisper

crypt candles   flicker   through the longest night

fair Matilda sleeps   on a blanket   in front of Our Lady

devours the wick   that has burned

gorges   on holy oil

while I hunt   venison   for the brothers

whispers   bones whisper buried bones whisper

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