HECKATON

At last, the boy reached the rock outcropping.
He’d followed the river for miles to find
this natural crossing. And there, stopping
at water’s edge, the white-tailed buck—eyes blind
to his breechclothed frame among bushes—stepped
into the shallow current. Soon the herd
appeared. The young Quapaw’s tattooed arm swept
sweat from his shaved head. He whispered the word
t’a. Steadied his bow, and let go. Soon he
would mount fur carcass on his dog travois.
Build a fire, pray for the deer’s soul, his plea
to Wakontah for balance in life. Joy
would rush through him when his father shouted
Hawé! Praised a son he never doubted.

Roger Armbrust
June 22, 2008

SOLSTICE MOONRISE

Temple of Poseidon’s pillars clinch wide
in gnarled columns, those silhouetted teeth
some whale skull’s only remains. Say it died
when the sea’s harsh father rose from beneath
Aegean’s waves in rage, lashed the mammoth
mammal against Cape Sounion’s vast crest,
leaving it to parch and decay. The mouth
of glowing moon yawns behind these darkest
of ruins, visible only to us
as villagers sleep, and to that sailor
guiding his craft through shimmering stardust
below, his midnight song a drunken prayer:
Artemis, send a new love to adore
me like a god, there on Patroklou’s shore.

Roger Armbrust
June 20, 2008

MIKE IN MONTANA

for Mike Felton

Somewhere in nature’s rich molecules, my
old frat bro breathes air clear as those daydreams
at dawn floating optic nerves of monks’ eyes,
flowing like my old frat bro on a stream
or river, I don’t know quite where. The Milk
maybe, north of Bearpaw Mountains and south
of Canada, or Musselshell, its silk
swirls slipping him past Roundup. The trout’s mouth
tests high, muddy currents—recent offspring
of this cold, rainy season—awaits line
and my old frat bro’s lure, with Mike glancing
at sun winking through Ponderosa pines.
At night, crackling campfire’s smoke rises far
past trees, signals love songs to glowing stars.

Roger Armbrust
June 11, 2008