I meet him ‘neath a copse of birch
At our ritual rendezvous,
Feigning confident comfort. My
Charger neighs at a bat that flew

By just a second hence. The cruel
And heartless Sable Knight would soon
Arrive. Luna and Astros hung
‘Bove on my dark maiden’s festoon.

I was eager to join with her
And enjoy romance for hours,
Thus his tardiness upset me.
Then, the presence of dark powers

Announced his coming long before
His dark forces manifested
Themselves as the shadowy knight’s
Dread form, in whom is invested

A power much like Charon’s, though
He never grants safe passage to
The soul over the Styx, instead
He haunts his victims with life. “You

Are late,” I growled, trying to seem
More confident than I was not.
His disregard of my contempt
Was like an haughty Tsar’s. I thought

I saw him smile. He must delight
In the futile struggle I wage
To be free of his control.
With the whimsy of his aged rage

That pervaded his actions and
Festered his mind, and to which he
Was oblivious, he said, “We’ll
Joust tomorrow, if you beat me

You can reclaim your soul and be
Free finally. Do you agree?”
I had little choice, as he knew.
“And if not, what happens to me?”

“That’s not an option. We’ll joust once
More, for you’ve sold your soul to me.
I expect you here when dawn breaks:
I’ll be keeping time faithfully.

Don’t look so glum, for tomorrow
Might be when you beat me at last.”
I doubted this, as did he, for
More than eight thousand times had passed

And made my failures bitter and
Freedom’s dream sad desperation.
I knew as well as he did what
Would befall my situation.

Tomorrow night we’d meet again
To renew this disturbed accord.
But one must fight while there’s a chance,
Though it be slim. Without a word

He ceased to be, as far as my
Eyes could see, for I was headed
For the sumptuous company
Of the maid I never wedded,

For she would drift away each day,
But then, all ladies are fickle.
We made our night a pleasant one,
And as dawn began to tickle

With feathery pinks and purples,
I made goodbye a vivid dance
Of passions to recall me by.
I donned my armour, grabbed my lance,

Mounted my steed, and galloped to
The predestined field of battle.
My sable foe’s arm threw his lance
Like an Aztec an atlatl

Where he waited idly. “You’re late;
I’ve waited for two minutes now.
Not that it matters, soon enough
You will be vanquished anyhow.

Take your place. Muster your valor.
Feign to have honor, or your mule
Might suspect its rider’s a fool.”
I ignored him. My mind was cool

As the brooks we never bathed in,
Lest we should catch our death and die.
I made ready, then he gave the
Sign, and large clumps of earth did fly

From furiously flitting hooves. Through
The visor I could see him glare
With his red eyes back at me, but
I returned his devilish stare.

I aimed a blow I was sure would
Hurtle this demon through the air,
But he absorbed the shock and seemed
Like he had not a single care.

His own blow I deflected with
My arm’s quick instincts with a shield.
The tremendous force of the thud
Jarred my bones, but I would not yield.

I barely retained my saddle,
And my lance was only splinters.
I grabbed a new lance with which to
Pummel this fiend from the hinter

Parts of the nethermost regions.
He gave the sign again. We rode
With Mercury’s own swift Godspeed,
And the dark cloud passing forebode

Of a perilous encounter.
I deflected his blow with my
Shield again, even as my own
Lance targeted his bloodstained eyes.

His visor dented, and for a
Long moment I could find no air
To breathe as he hung on the brink
Of falling metallically square

Upon his face. Did I just win?
But his gauntlets clung to his reins,
And he remained, though loosened, in
His saddle. “That rattle your brains?”

I taunted, glad to have some of
My own little arrogance back.
I regretted those words when next
We charged, for he did seem to crack

Every joint in my sore body,
Making both my ears whine and ring.
My vision clouded, and for a
Moment I could not see a thing.

Still I managed not to falter.
I was sure that I was bleeding.
My lance but grazed his black buckler.
I ruefully felt like heeding

The words of my sagacious ma’am
That “Knights in armor shouldn’t joust.”
But a wisp of teasing freedom
Whispered to me that I would oust

My adversary if I tried.
I just hoped that it hadn’t lied
To deceive this gullible heart
That, like chivalry, would nigh die.

I took a lance for the fourth time,
Vowing that I would make my mark
This day in this solitary
Tourney, and live today till dark.

As we galloped to certain death,
I thought to try a dirty deed.
At the last moment I moved my
Lance, and instead hit his black steed.

The shaft exploded and pieces
Darted through its galloping legs.
The cursed horse’s armor saved him.
His look said I would drink the dregs

Of rotten bitterness wrung out
For this treachery, as if he
Expected me to have honor
Against a ghoul that lacked any.

His silent vow was true for I
Nearly flew headlong from my horse
When he smote my shield, launching it
At my body with monstrous force.

My visor hung upon one hinge,
My breastplate and valor dented.
The rising sun caught his empty
Armour and piercingly glinted,

Blinding me for a second as
My foe began his mad gallop
Intent to rip me open like
A ray rips open a scallop.

“Charlemagne, this is it for us,”
I told my steed as we started
Our mad rush into destiny.
At least he was not faint-hearted.

His hoofbeats sound our progress, and
His nostrils are wildly flaring.
Sweat was flying. I could tell not
One ounce of strength was he sparing.

The lance a dull and deadly weight
In my arm. The saddle creaking.
The broken visor’s fierce whistle.
The armor clanging and squeaking.

The Sable Knight is upon me.
At this moment I am not scared.
His horse was in a rabid rage.
Then it sounded like trumpets blared,

Though we were alone. I struck. He
Teetered. Perhaps I would prevail.
Too soon came my triumph; too soon
Came all the force and wrath of hell.

My shield is rent asunder, and
A hail of splinter shrapnel flies.
Pain rips through me as the head of
His lance plunges where my heart lies,

Through the heavy plated armor
And chain mail deep into my chest.
With the furor of the Harpies,
It puts my cardiac at rest.

The lance breaks in twain as I fall
Off of Charlemagne, my dear mount.
Dust rises and dust subsides as
My corpse clatters upon the ground.

Running hooves slow and circle round;
His helmet hovers o’er my face.
Then, he lifts his dented visor,
But Fengari on Samothrace

Gives off more light and is far more
Pronounced than his features, the eyes
Of course excepted. They tell me
That it’s time to go. As death lies

Upon me like a layer of oil,
I step from my maimed cadaver.
Vile vultures come to pick at my
Warm corpse, thinking they’ve found havre

For their scavenging lusts, but I
Shall reinhabit it tonight.
He grabs my ghost and spirits me
Away from this world into light.

The knight is cold and unfeeling,
And devoid of conversation.
But that has been the case on
Each transmundial migration.

The memories of our joust fade
To eternal recollection’s
Oblivion. I sigh and groan,
Wearied by my insurrection,

From this battle which has raged for
Years, to which there’s no end in sight.
I vow I’ll best him tomorrow,
As my sight’s seared by intense light.

I’ll break the curse of my bondage,
Ending our repitual fight
For dominance by jousting. ‘Swounds,
I miss my maiden of the night!

I get up from my bed, leaving
My dreams to rot and decompose
Like ice upon a stove’s eye where
Only a memory morose

Of water might remain as it
Rejoins to the vapors unseen.
Already sections disappear
From this strange feudalistic scene.

I pound the blaring alarm and
Recognize the demonic eyes
That bested me. I must sally-
Forth to work soon, so I arise.