Poem: Exiting Valhalla

Poem: Exiting Valhalla
 I  can almost recall
the days of power
I lived in Valhalla.
We could rent affection
in a modern Al-Hambara.
Cell upon cell full of foam
uttering sad liquid curses.
I was glad about feuds,
that remain in memory
pitted against each other.
The disconsolate fevers
show no mercy
battering both hands.
I wait, overtake illusion
render an untimely exit.
Making out clear noises
from distant tables
reborn and costumed
become a costly animal
we wait for our, tears.
I’m reborn then, by rain,
splashes. on inanimate glass
dilute milk of the storm.

©  photo: a photographic reproduction of “Valhalla” (1896) by Max Brückner

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