A poem for Eline, mistress of Erlend, mother of Orm and Margret

By Megan Willome

Acquainted with Eline

after Robert Frost’s “Acquainted with the Night

I was a woman. I am a martyr.
My shroud held tight inside her cross.
I did not come to Haugen to barter.

No saint: I am an albatross.
My splendid body, he used, no longer wants.
My death, not hers. My children, her loss.

On her wedding day I came to haunt.
Cast off the stones they laid me under.
I knew the signs: her pale face gaunt.

After that is it any wonder
my big, hard eyes grew only darker,
Fastened on her, pulled her under.

The way of a mistress is so much harder. 
I was a woman. I am a martyr.

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