Bastard Heir Poem by Andy Wood

Bastard Heir



Albion's bastard son
Of the thirteenth tribe,
Born to die
On the hoof
On the road.

At a crossroads
With the rose cross -
In his hands, the fourth nail.

Royal wine.
Bloodline.
Predetermined, composite
Spiralling infinite,
Like Absalom's twisted hair
In the oak branches.

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Andy Wood

Andy Wood

Newcastle Upon Tyne
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