Thunder

Think of Thor before you hear thunder,

Fill the silence after the flash

With mead and dance and laughter,

Blood-vows and bellows and pain in your shoulder

As it is twisted out of joint,

Fill it with hugs and tears and the smell of

Comrades and women and girls,

In the aftermath of the sharply angled brilliance

Envision the curves and sinews of firm muscles

Suspended in movement

And pearls of salt sweat down the small of your back.

But even more,

Thor of the Thunders,

Who lost his hammer in the underworld

And dressed like fair Frey, in lace

And frills and a bridal veil

Barely containing the bushy beard,

In order to get his manly weapon back.

Think of a God in woman’s clothing

After your teeth glisten with lightning

And before your marrow is displaced by thunder.

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