Not centaur nor archer but man, man standing exhausted at night beneath a night sky so deep and measureless, head thrown back he sees his constellation, his brain fleshes it and draws the lines which begin to ripple then glimmer, heave and twist, assume color, rear up, the head high, the chest and torso gleaming, beard glistening, flanks strapped with muscle, hooves stomping in place, stomping night's floor, rearing again, fading, then regaining terror, the bow in hand, a strung bow, and arrow fitted, drawn back, the arrow molten-tipped. Slay. He only still "slays." And when the arrow reaches earth I'll die. ̺ ̺ ̺ But in morning light, already shrill and hot by ten, digging a well pit, the sandy earth crumbles and traps the legs, binding them to earth; then digging again, driving a shallow well with a sledge, the well-tip shaded as an arrowhead, sledge hitting steel with metallic ring and scream; the pump head and arm bound to pipe, sitting in damp sand with legs around the pipe pumping the first water onto my chest and head - head swollen with pain of last night's sign and leavings of whiskey. ̺ ̺ ̺ On another morning, the frost as a sheet of white stubbled silk soon to melt into greenness, partridge thumping ground with wings to call their mates, near a river, thick and turbulent and brown - a great buck deer, startled from a thicket, a stag of a thousand stories, how easily his spread antlers trace a back and bow not unlike your own, then the arc of him bounding away into his green clear music. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 2. OFF ALGIERS by SARA TEASDALE AFTER THE RAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SUMMER WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT FIDELIA: 4. THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION IN A SONNET by GEORGE WITHER UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN by AGNES H. BEGBIE |