I feel the ripple of muscle
the salty-sweet taste of lips upon mine
I take my lover there in battle; kill my lover & raise him up to the arms of my all seeing father
to him I offer mead, to him I offer my body
he will go on forever, until the end of time
then he will rise up, conquer our foes and purge that damned wolf of the moon he glutinously consumes.
fingers slipping between my breasts, between my legs
would he take me? conquering me as he had the battlefield?
or would there be hesitation, chasteness
would he bed me as a bride, or as a spoil of victory?
Riding high in clouds above battle, would I know immediately who was worthy, or would I ponder which was the right one to take with me as a lover to dine with the gods? Even when I laid lips to the deathly chosen, would I have second thoughts? Would I be able to see into their past so I could make a judgement based on their worth? Or would I choose them soley based on their actions in battle?
Would Odin be in my ear, whispering sweet words of death, sending chills down my back like a lovers caress? Would I long for the warriors, ache for them with a lust they couldn’t sate in a hundred years? Riding my spectral beast through the sky would I feel every ripple of muscle and every lunge like a thrust from a lover? Would I long to ride those noble warriors like my steed?
Would I bring them into my dance of death as a lover, or subjugate them, conscribe them to a fate they don’t want? Would I force them to protect the heavenly host during Ragnarok, or would they come with me willingly, accepting my chaste kiss, and the ensuing death?
Would they die instantly? Would my kiss of death come moments before a sword fell them, or would I have already kissed them the night before, marking them as dead before the battle was waged?
Would they know they were bound to die, or would they be surprised? Would I come to them in a dream, and the victim would know without a shadow of doubt their time was up? Knowing this would they great battle with extra vigor? Would they yearn for the sweet release of death, and the lustful release promised them after death.
When dead, would I offer up my body as readily as I offered them mead? Would they take me savagely, conquering me as they conquered their foe, or would there be honor? Would there be respect and softness they rarely got to show?
Would taking them turn back the shadow of doom? Would I possibly have the honor of taking one, dining and bedding the one who would have the might to push back Hel and her ghoulish horde?