The Saturday skraelings
Whooping, descending on the sodhouses
Descending indians surround the sodhouses
Our time in Vinland is almost over
You can count the days on our skinny ribs
And yet we still won't fish those freezing seas
Though protein in abundance cruises within
Our stubbornness will flummox tomorrow's scientists
Will fascinate the eager archaeologists
The faintly supercilious archaeologists
Some of whom live here themselves
Today in another body -- Oleg, he's an archaeologist
He has dreams of unearthing his own bones
Dreams of brushing dust from his own naked ribs
Which he (wisely) tells no one