Friday, March 30, 2007

373. The Labors Of Thor - David Wagoner

Stiff as the icicles in their beards, the Ice Kings 

Sat in the great cold hall and stared at Thor 

Who had lumbered this far north to stagger them 

With his gifts, which (back at home) seemed scarcely human. 


“Immodesty forbids,” his sideman Loki 

Proclaimed throughout the preliminary bragging, 

And reeled off Thor’s accomplishments, fit for Sagas

 Or a seat on the bench of the gods. With a sliver of beard 


An Ice King picked his teeth: “Is he a drinker?” 

And Loki boasted of challengers laid out 

As cold as pickled herring. The Ice King offered 

A horn-cup, long as a harp’s neck, full of mead. 


Thor braced himself for elbow and belly room 

And tipped the cup and drank as deep as mackerel, 

Then deeper, reaching down for the halibut 

Till his broad belt buckled. He had quaffed one inch. 


“Maybe he’s better at something else,” an Ice King

 Muttered, yawning. Remembering the boulders 

He’d seen Thor heave and toss in the pitch of anger, 

Loki proposed a bout of lifting weights. 


“You men have been humping rocks from here to there 

For ages,” an Ice King said. “They cut no ice. 

Lift something harder.” And he whistled out 

A gray-green cat with cold, mouseholey eyes. 


Thor gave it a pat, then thrust both heavy hands 

Under it, stooped and heisted, heisted again, 

Turned red in the face and bit his lip and heisted 

From the bottom of his heart—and lifted one limp forepaw.


 Now pink in the face himself, Loki said quickly 

That heroes can have bad days, like bards and beggars, 

But Thor of all mortals was the grossest wrestler 

And would stake his demigodhood on one fall. 


Seeming too bored to bother, an Ice King waved 

His chilly fingers around the mead-hall, saying, 

“Does anyone need some trifling exercise 

Before we go glacier-calving in the morning?” 


An old crone hobbled in, foul-faced and gamy, 

As bent in the back as any bitch of burden, 

As gray as water, as feeble as an oyster. 

An Ice King said, “She’s thrown some boys in her time.” 


Thor would have left, insulted, but Loki whispered, 

“When the word gets south, she’ll be at least an ogress.” 

Thor reached out sullenly and grabbed her elbow, 

But she quicksilvered him and grinned her gums. 


Thor tried his patented hammerlock takedown, 

But she melted away like steam from a leaky sauna. 

He tried a whole Nelson; it shrank to half, to a quarter, 

Then nothing. He stood there, panting at the ceiling, 


“Who got me into this demigoddiness?” 

As flashy as lightning, the woman belted him 

With her bony fist and boomed him to one knee, 

But fell to a knee herself, as pale as moonlight. 


Bawling for shame, Thor left by the back door, 

Refusing to be consoled by Loki’s plans 

For a quick revision of the Northodox Version 

Of the evening’s deeds, including Thor’s translation 


From vulnerable flesh and sinew into a dish 

Fit for the gods and a full apotheosis 

With catches and special effects by the sharpest gleemen 

Available in an otherwise flat season. 


He went back south, tasting his bitter lesson, 

Moment by moment for the rest of his life, 

Believing himself a pushover faking greatness 

Along a tawdry strain of misadventures. 


Meanwhile, the Ice Kings trembled in their chairs 

But not from the cold: they’d seen a man hoist high 

The Great Horn-Cup that ends deep in the ocean 

And lower all Seven Seas by his own stature; 


They’d seen him budge the Cat of the World and heft 

The pillar of one paw, the whole north corner; 

They’d seen a mere man wrestle with Death herself 

And match her knee for knee, grunting like thunder.



Cruxrush comment:

There are several proofreading mistakes in this fine poem:
It's "foul-faced", not "four-faced";
"as pale as moonlight", not "and pale as moonlight";
"for a quick revision OF the Northodox version";
no comma after "Moment by moment";
colon, not dash, after "But not from the cold:";
"the pillar OF one paw".
As a fan of this poem, I would like to ask you to please correct these mistakes.


Thank you Cruxrush, now you only have 1084 to go

david.grenell@gmail.com

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