On the Cancellation of British Literature

Fighting with only bare hands,

Beowulf  vanquishes Grendel,

Hangs the monster’s bloody arm above the mead hall,

And sails home on ancient seas

Prioress, Wyf of Bath,

Monk and Miller

Ride on palfrey and stallion from

Canterbury, tales all told

Arthur reminisces about pulling steel from stone,

As Merlin languishes in the Hawthorne tree

Lady Macbeth scrubs lily white hands

Seeing only divine blood

While her husband longs for holy, restive sleep

Lady of Shallott weaves tapestries in her crumbling tower,

Viewing the world through rippled reflection

Keats's lovers dance on Grecian urn,

Trees forever blooming

Characters under the spell of words

Live on, unbidden
Scops, singing stories

To empty rooms.