FOUR DWARVEN SONGS
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                                 after the Khudzul

1. ANVIL

Once I was iron
Ore, then I was
Iron. I still am. I may
Blush red if you go
Hard enough but I won’t
Say no. That said: although
I’m known for giving
Offenses, shields, grave
Reasons for battle and durable
Scars, I’d rather stand
For the plough, the broad cookpot,
The knife and the carding comb
Whose finely distinguished parallels save
You hours of labor. You can sing
About them too, or just wrap
Your young ones softer.
My angles mean I’m easier
To work, take more
More heat and remain
Less brittle
Than stone. You know I’d rather
Be hit than alone.

2. AXE

Everything that could be, is
Material: the oak whose fellows
Saw it would fail and fall
And endanger them all unless
First felled; the shale,
Made solid undersea, now able,
Squared and trimmed, to keep
Your winters warm; the matted fern,
A barrier to easily
Discouraged sheep, too thick
To brush aside, and dangerous
To burn; if not the wolf
Herself, the man whose refusal to hear
Or heed his mates inflamed
His greed and made
Him wolf to other men.
We ought to love what we defend.

3. WHEEL

In the First World, people could fly.
That’s what I think. No one tells me any different.
Only some people, though. The rest couldn’t
Go far. They used to cry,
Each morning, from loneliness.
Someone who invented a tune on a bone
Flute could pass
Away and no one proficient
Could learn or even hear it. Exquisite sand
Rosettes could erode
To near-featurelessness without
Memory’s trace. And that’s where I roll in.
I don’t mind going in
Circles but I won’t
Be spoken for.
Don’t let them tell you the road
Runs from better to worse
All the way. When you’re good
And ready I’ll elevate,
Support, propel or host
Your wagon or cart, and, when that
Day comes, your hearse.

4. NAILS

Set beside our cousins we cost
Almost nothing: only molten
Metal, gravity, height and room-temperature
Water. Drop after drop we are made
To harden so we can hold your
Things together. We far outlast
Our friendly rival, the woven
Tether. Without eyes
In any of our tiny heads,
We can nonetheless see
How we can only build collectively:
Alone we get lost
Or draw blood. Once we are laid
In our vertical places we expect to stay.
It would take a well-
Considered, hook-
Equipped, skillful hammer to drive us away.