Dave Yallop

Tollund Man

Long meander over trout streams
trail left launches into forest sky
a whirring breeze uncovers us
knotted hands and face.

From birth to now has seemed a day inside
cries from the hunched-up dark.

A grey current opens
gold-braid, gold necklaces
death in medallions.

Cast down from the wrath river
uninterrupted death in chains.