Slain

1066- No King

Standing

In Engleterre.

Hardrada dead at the bridge.

To Godwinson's eye an arrow-

But not far on the same plain, a spear to his thigh,

The bastard.

In the fields and uncounted forests

And muddy streets

The English are afraid;

What God

Fates slaughter

Of the crown usurpers

And the annointed King

In the same calendar month?

Unbothered,

Courts across the water

Continental and swarming

Count their silver

And take a greater interest

In that island.