Talking about Grendel

They say that you were

born from scars, out

of them like the seeds

spilling from a pomegranate split

unevenly in two. They

say that the mark of your

ancestor sunk deep

into your blood until it

beat with you, each breath

a constant pulse, thud,

push of what he’d done.

They say that you knew

nothing but the rush

of claws, the gasp

of teeth, the taste of

salt-copper between

lip, on the tongue.

They don’t say that you

once shook from nightmare

and your mother wrapped you

in her arms, safe as

mice in nests of fur,

hair, dust. Safe, safe,

warm as silence.


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2 responses to “Talking about Grendel

  1. Knowing Grendel, this ending is so wonderfully pregnant with the coming story. Nice.

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