The Last Viking Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Last Viking
There had been a war in my part of the world, peace there is never one,
people fight wars in other parts of the world more brutal than ever before.
The first winter of peace was the coldest anyone old could remember and
ducks feet froze on the ice they could not move and became prey to rats
and human scum who threw stones at the ducks satisfying a biblical instinct.
A tree in the park had fallen and a skeleton was discovered it was to be
excavated the next day, but it disappeared I think it had reassembled itself
broken into a dress shop and covered his bones with the skin of dead people.
A long very thin man had been observed outside a lady`s lingerie shop late
one evening, masturbating, what else to do after being dead under a tree for
five hundred years.
At a museum in the Isle of Man, I saw the thumb of a Viking in a glass cage
within a glass cage surrounded by precious objects ladies wore at the time
It was pathetic there he was fighting and living not knowing his thumb would
live forever in a tiny glass cage