Nídhögg rises with the red light stretching her feathers and climbing the air with her wings away from her bower beneath the World Tree where she hoards corpses instead of gold where she curls her sinuous body around the roots and squeezes tight (where she’d very much like to bite Ratatosk that infernal squirrel in half) She tastes the air with her tongue finding the notes of sulphur and ash of Ragnarök the coming storm and destruction and holds them in her mouth She grins and swings back to her bed There will be more corpses to consume soon enough
This poem is part of my Field Guide to Norse Mythology series. It first appeared in Honeyguide Literary Magazine, Issue 2, “Mythical Creatures.”
K. Neufeld Editing 