Dreams of Cuchulainn
Ross E. Lockhart
My wife wears another woman’s name, scratched
into her shoulder,
a relic ofanother time, another place.
I, too
wear scars and marks as souvenirs
of vanished misadventures.
A half-completed Tenku on my forearm.
An ankh upon one shoulder.
A sigil on the other.
A glyph remembered from a dream, etched
into my back.
Jennifer traces it
with a finger.“I like how it’s
raised - substantial - like it’s a l i v e .”She is as much
a part of me.
A thousand years ago, or was it only yesterday?
I spilled my name in blood and spit and sweat.
I wore each conquest,before the gods,
each totem carvedinto my skin and stood
unscared.
Today I cover up in public,
embarrassed by imperfect form.
My symbols mine alone.
Seems strange to feel so distant from that time
when Fenris’ howls were mingled with the wind
and long before the Midgard Serpent
had been rechristened Leviathan.
A thousand years ago, or was it only yesterday,
when first I dreamed... of Cuchulainn.
Last night I dreamed of him again.
He filled the horn, we drank,
I listened to his boasts,
and steadily I realizedsmallwas far toothe GREAT BIG modern God
for there to be enough to go around.
We stood in ranks upon the hillside,
to face armored invaders
s t r i p p e d but for our torcs
our spears, our shields in hand
our histories, our magic stamped into
our skins - in woad - we stood u n s t o p p a b l e .
We screamed at their advancing legions | until our voices hurt | then leapt upon them drove them back | until they built a wall and claimed | that we could not be reckoned with | besides, they had a war at home | and they could not be bothered with | the likes of foolish primitives | for that we were and that we are | and that we’ll always be...
But on that very night, you see,
we toasted all the gods in revelry,
first one and then another,
until we fell...
...and d r e a m e d .