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‘warþ gasric grorn, þær he on greut giswom’ [Fish sad when washed to shore] – The Franks Casket

hronæsban
sorrowful, weeping tears of salt
taken, hunted, harpooned
from my blue lagoon
crafted by you into this box.

hronæsban
carve me, recalcitrant though I am
may my banhus tell both your story
and mine. 
unsure which is which,
unsure who is who.

hronæsban
scratch your runes and your faces
deep within me
your knives penetrate bone and flesh.

hronæsban
reach your hands within me,
violate me, 
stick your pins and needles inside of me.

hronæsban
why are you scared of me?
climb upon my back,
or inside of me.
i’ll bite you; i’ll eat you.

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