Daniel’s poem from issue two of Eye Flash is brimming with imagery and rhyme that combines magically to create a scene full of pastoral and romantic melancholy.
On the Sand, on the Bay
I dreamt of ice in fitful sleep,
the mead still thick across your teeth,
the kiss laid on my beardless cheek.
We sat on our bags in the gate
in Reykjavik, your sweater, grey
and loosely knit like chainmail.
Then in the field, our breath like iron,
we ran, having misread the meter.
I stood like Scarp-Hedon, fit
for battle, your floral-print dress
rustled like leaves in October,
which rot into mulch behind the shed
back home. Your ash-tree skin
dripped pitch—the hull of a Viking ship
Sailing Midgard to Valhalla.
Then on the plane, I couldn’t help
but think of Gunnar and Halgerd—
The reek of smoke on Njal’s black bones
The morning after. And though, by now
I think I know what Morrissey meant
About girls and graves, I’ll take the chance.
Oh, by the way, before you come up
To bed, just bank the stove with logs
And push the damper ‘till it clicks.