HA&L magazine issue eleven.3

Poetry • by Kayla Geitzler 1

 

Poetry


by Kayla Geitzler



GRETA HRÍMGERDR


transitional cell-sick stubborn-Greta Hálfdansdottir became
         hrímgerðr: illness-withered
crone-bent smoke-haired pallor-grim Greta Hrímgerðr irritable
         and quarrelsome
round-shouldered and gloaming-fearing pulled the bedsheets to
         her chin
recalled a voyage parent-accompanied on a Nepalese riverboat


in her winter-darkened window my galdr gaze scryed their vessel
tide-turned and fog-steered rudderless drifting through Terai
         wetlands
halted by a shroud of marsh birds undulating into the dusk by the
         thousands

exposing in the long grasses of that country frost-aged and crone-
         bent a vǫlva


to whom Greta Hálfdansdottir shouted greetings until Eric
         Hálfdan her father
silverheaded pillar-straight strong-shouldered but omen-blind
         bade his noisy
progeny Be silent. Greta Hrímgerðr gestured to her reflection said
         No vǫlva
was there ever—from the bow I hailed my fylgja: crone-grey hospital-    
         gowned bone-bodied.



duty-laden Charles Hálfdanson brother-brought his sister-
         vagabond stubborn-Greta Hrímgerðr
tongue flyting to the seiðmenn of oncology: Greta-Hrímgerðr
         crone-grey body fluid-filled and
corpse-bloated flyting Charles Hálfdanson my father silver
         headed pillar-straight strong-shouldered
laid both his sister and his hopes before gods of scalpel and
         pharmaceutical cure-all


Greta Hrímgerðr hysterectomy-delivered the cancer baby-sized
         and organ-gorging
colostomy-bowelled fevered Greta Hrímgerðr harridan-hounded
         surgeons with complaints
of her wound wandering and suppurating from unexpected
         places so into Odin’s empty eye
they slid her— the organ-divining machine discovering liver-
         hidden the dooming dísir


I: Braga Hálfdansdottir the amber-haired verse-smith
         strong-shouldered Vör-sighted
spent each evening heavy-hearted light-voiced visiting my
         father’s sister stubborn-Greta Hrímgerðr
her life-thread measured by the constrictor-cuff machine and
         sustained through clepsydra-intravenous
optimism-sickened hospital food-refusing she took from my
         aunt-cheering hands the rice I made her


from sunset passed moon-rising and after the curfew-crowing
         slowly going
we ward-wandered and paced the breezeway walled by windows
         winter-sieged
Our kinship greater said stubborn-Greta Hálfdansdottir In that we
         are women
of wanderlust: sea-roved and land-rambled
. we steered our trek

         king-tired feet


to the sicklings’ chapel I guided her stood hand on the pew’s
         shoulder as she Bibled
at the informal pulpit stroking the Irish lace altar grimacing at
         the mortuary van visible
through the stained glass my aunt Greta Hrímgerðr crone-bent
         smoke-haired pallor-grim
thanked me for my kindnesses but nun-minded was I never—I
         gave nothing to her but my time


I: Braga Hálfdansdottir amber-haired verse-smith remorse-
         ridden might have studied
the doctor’s doctorate been a sleuth of veins and vim taken
         valkyrie halberd and spear
to bodies’ Ragnarok but fylgja-led to the word-smithing of my
         mother’s people my knowledge-gleaning
verse-creating of little use to stubborn-Greta Hrímgerðr my
         father’s sister norn-denying dísir-doomed


the orderlies troll-mighty came to gurney-gather the flesh-
         wasted bone-body of Greta Hrímgerðr
down down into the hospital bowels they bed-steered her into
         care and kind assertiveness of life-end
nurses graveyard grey and silent in the palliative care unit my
         aunt Greta Hálfdansdottir slept pain-sedated
in a room cloister-quiet single-bedded cord-tangled with
         medical equipment Hálfdans gathered wake-waiting


in the looming star-spotted winter gloaming I daughter of
         Charles Hálfdanson accepted his seat
of vigil-keeping heart-strong fate-defying Greta Hálfdansdottir
         sickly-struggled to turn her body
Charles Hálfdanson long-loving sister-pitying curled his fingers
         in stubborn-Greta Hálfdansdottir’s
clutching bent his silverhead to her brother-begging voice-
         failing final-wishing Get me out of here.

    

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[Distillate © HA&L + Kayla Geitzler  |  {from the Greek bios} -- the course of a life.]

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