111

He set himself on fire and looked into the flames to see if anything brilliant had developed and saw a golden crossbow, arrows fledged with bronze, but of such an evil disposition, each day it asked for one head, and on special days for two, so he broke the bow to pieces and cast it back into himself. The second day, a blood red boat, with golden prow, rowlocks of copper, rose from the flames, but of such an evil dispostion, it would go to war at any reason. So he broke the boat into fragments and cast it back into himself. The third day, a heifer, skin full of stars, gold shining horns, rose out of the flames, but of such an evil disposition, she spilled her milk upon the ground. So he cut the cow to fragments and cast it back into himself. Then a golden plough rose from the flames, but of such an evil disposition, it ploughed up all the fields and meadows, so he cast it back into himself. Then the winds rose up in fury. For three days, he was on fire, himself, the only flame, until something rose out of the burning that still we cannot name, except that, like she, for whom he burned, it was fair to gaze upon. For love is the sole cell which births imagination.

(with thanks to The Kalevala)

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115

She rose and saw the fiery distance
Spill its light across the ocean
Saw the bridge across the river
Flaming like a molten archway
Saw the trucks and peak hour traffic
Driving on with windows blazing
Watched until the glory faded
Spread her arms and made her silence
Weaving wide across the water
Breath and flesh in graceful braiding
Lip and eye in liquid dancing
Hand and foot to form the measure
First a voice rose from the shoreline
A flute of silver thinly piping
Second came a puff of feathers
White a flour blue as razors
Third a tongue as gold as butter
Fourth the claws and fifth the blinking
Sixth the muscle run to wingtip
Last she sang it whole and living
Set the blood its breathing circle
Let her heart fly to its freedom