A Matter of Life and Death?

It may not be obvious

From the scene presented;

In which we stand

Shoulder to shoulder

In the dragon crowds,

But we are, normally,

Of different flags.

But make no mistake;

This night his strikes

Will be my strikes

And my shield will be his.

Spirits are high,

Pulses ramped

And we expect

Our red-men champions

To bring the whip,

The hammer

And swords of

Justice thunder

To your Iron Tower,

Your channel shore

Of golden sun and

Riderless horses!


Salt Foot

I am Salt Foot,

Sometimes Kelp Witch,

Known as Bone Picker:

Always the one with

The feather hood.

Rolling gently loch surface

Stroked by the pulses and

Quills of an older time

Presses in against the

Silver-shadow banks

Of a low-sun tide.

Across orca acres

And salt-otter wrack,

Past the wrecks of dreams

Between rock armour links –

As the poured-down

Light changes the

Observed and the observer,

And digs holes in the sky

I am Salt Foot,

Coming home again.